


Paris Monsieur in Gotham

by BlueAthena



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir Bashing, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alya Césaire Bashing, Asexual Alix Kubdel, Badass Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Batfamily, Bee Chloé Bourgeois | Queen Bee, Caline Bustier Bashing, Chloé Bourgeois Redemption, Daminette, Evil Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Evil Lila Rossi, Falling In Love, Female Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Female Damian Wayne, Female Jonathan Samuel Kent, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gen, Hot Mess Damian Wayne, Hot Mess Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Hurt Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I wrote this instead of studying but I regret nothing, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, Jealous Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Lila Rossi Bashing, Lila Rossi Lies, Male Chloé Bourgeois, Male Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Manipulative Lila Rossi, MariBat, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Finds Out First, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Knows, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Needs a Hug, Miracle Queen DID NOT happen, Non-Graphic Violence, ONLY A BIT AND IT'S FEW AND FAR AND NOT TOO GRAPHIC, One-Sided Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Panic Attacks, Protective Batfamily (DCU), Protective Damian Wayne, Serious Injuries, Sibling Love, Temporary Miraculous Wielder Sabrina, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:02:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 40
Words: 184,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26042395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueAthena/pseuds/BlueAthena
Summary: Dahlia Wayne never believed in love at first sight for it was merely a fantasy concept a ditzy naïve ignorant airheaded girl would use to indulge herself.Upon a chance encounter with a Parisian boy with bluebell eyes and his fair share of secrets however, she can’t help but second guess her previous assumptions on love.[Genderbend Daminette/Maribat].....[𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒]
Relationships: Alix Kubdel & Red X, Chloé Bourgeois/Jonathan Samuel Kent, Juleka Couffaine/Rose Lavillant, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Damian Wayne, Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel, Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 541
Kudos: 1232





	1. The (Not) Mugged Paris Boy

**Author's Note:**

> I noticed that while there are numerous daminette/maribat fanfics, there aren’t many genderbend versions of those and yes, I have a soft spot for genderbend characters, ok? And I think it would be interesting to see how their dynamic would work out if they were genderbent.  
> This is my first time writing a daminette/maribat and salt fanfic so I hope I don’t disappoint. I also hope I manage to keep a smooth flow of the story and the lore of both fandoms. Sorry if certain characters are OOC, I’ll try my best.  
> I want to say thank you to Silent_Radioactivity for inspiring me to write this. Sorry if I am plagarizing you and I hope I am not offending you in any way.  
> Also, please note that not all the characters are genderbent. Only a few are and said few are mentioned below. 
> 
> Genderbent characters:  
> Marinette- Marcel/ Red Beetle  
> Chloe- Chris  
> Adrien- Adrianne/ Chat Noire  
> Damian- Dahlia  
> Everyone else remains the same. In this version, Lila is basically ‘besties’ with Adrianne, ‘like sisters’. Their ‘friendship’ however is even worse/toxic than Chloe’s with Sabrina’s.  
> Lila harasses Marcel like she does in canon with Adrien but she isn’t above painting him as a bad guy while turning on the innocent crocodile tears either. Like in many other salt fics, Lila has also distanced Marcel with his class as she threatened him that if he didn’t become her boyfriend and bow down to her rule, she would make sure he has no friends at all.

Gotham City.

Home to some of the most dangerous criminals and villains to grace the planet; the rough turf of the infamous Bat Family, the dark guardians of the crime infested city; the very city where crime beats like a heart in a consistent rhythm 24/7 every day, especially when night creeps over the city, coiling its dark tendrils to suffocate the unfortunate and aid the criminals who seek to use it as an advantage to suit their own needs.

It was also the city where one Marcel Dupain-Cheng was currently lost in.

Marcel sighed aggrievedly, glaring at his phone as though doing so would somehow make it turn back on and show him the goddamn GPS map so he could find some way to backtrack to the hotel.

His phone screen resolutely stayed blank.

Luck was not on his side…….then again, it hasn’t been for quite a while now.

He stuffed his hands into his pocket, closing his eyes in frustration. He wasn’t surprised at this point but still, even now, he couldn’t stop the swell of disappointment and the slight pang of hurt at it all.

Three years.

Three years since he’s been chosen to wield the Ladybug Miraculous.

Three years since he’s taken up the mantle of Red Beetle.

Three years since Hawkmoth showed up and terrorized Paris, leaving its citizens and their emotional and psychological states hostage.

Three years since Lila showed up and sunk her claws into his class, trapping them in her web of lies.

Three years since she gave him the ultimatum of bowing down to her rule and becoming her ‘significant other’ - pfft, as if- or becoming another obstacle in her way.

Three years since…..she made due on her threat and made sure he’s lost his friends.

He shook his head to dispel that last thought.

No, that wasn’t true. He did have friends. Not many but _genuine_ friends who _cared_ ; who truly stuck by him when things got rough, people he could trust to watch his back.

He felt his mouth quirk upwards a bit. But it quickly fell when he realized said friends were probably worried sick about him right now.

He felt Tikki give him a comforting pat from the inner pocket of his jacket. He was grateful he wasn’t truly alone out here at least.

Another gust of wind blew by, harshly reminding him just how chilly Gotham was at night. It didn’t help that his miraculous has made him more susceptible to cold.

Zipping up his maroon leather jacket- darn it, he knew he should’ve worn a hoodie instead- he glanced left and right, eyeing dark alleys where he could potentially transform……

And at the same time potentially get mugged or killed in.

Come on, this was Gotham for crying out loud. Sure, Paris wasn’t a safe haven either but still, at least Paris was a turf he was familiar with like the back of his hand.

……. _merde_ , he just jinxed it.

This was proven when three men came out of a nearby alleyway. Judging by their shabby appearances and the way they carried themselves, they practically screamed danger.

“Hey little boy, you lost?” one of them asked gruffly.

Marcel didn’t answer but began to warily back away, making sure to keep his eyes on them in case they made a move but using his peripheral to analyze possible escape routes.

First day here and he’s already getting mugged. Wow.

“We can help you get back home…for a small fee.” Another holding a pipe said, sticking out a hand.

He pressed his lips into a thin line and said nothing.

This caused him to scowl.

“You deaf or somethin? Hand over yer wallet brat or you’re dead.” The third one snapped, taking out a pocket knife.

Instantly, Marcel tensed and fell into a fighting stance. Instincts honed and reflexes sharpened from his experience as Red Beetle surfaced, instinctively taking lead.

Welp, at least he’ll have something to vent some of his frustrations out on.

The man with the pocket knife charged forward first, lunging forward to stab him.

Marcel parried his wrist, knocking the knife away and slammed a palm fist strike to his exposed jaw, swiftly followed by a knife-hand strike to the windpipe.

The one wielding the pipe came next. He raised his pipe up and brought it down but Marcel caught his wrist. Twisting around, he bent slightly and tossed the guy over his shoulder.

The third one frantically eyed his two downed companions. Crap, they underestimated the kid.

Marcel’s eyes widened when he saw the third one whip a small revolver out, aiming it straight at him. The guy was evidently shaken up but that could backfire on him. Panic can make someone do very stupid decisions.

“Do-don’t move! Drop your wallet and back away! I’m warning you!” the third guy said.

Marcel put his hands up and slowly backed away.

“Ok…ok, I won’t hurt you. Put the gun down.” He tried to reason.

“Shut up!” he snapped.

“You should take your own advice.”

Another voice. Feminine but cold, stern and sharp as a metal blade pierced the tension.

Marcel’s head shot up and the third mugger whipped his head around in time for a red projectile to hit him smack in the face, knocking him down.

A figure seemingly materialized out of the shadows and stood there, the nearby street lamps allowing Marcel to make out their features.

His eyes widened when he realized who it was.

A red armored vest with a ‘R’ emblazoned over the heart, black leggings and green steel reinforced combat boots with matching gloves and a sharp angular domino mask, black hooded cape with a yellow interior.

Robin.

Member of the Bat Family, one of the protectors/heroes/vigilantes of Gotham.

Said hero didn’t waste time tying the three muggers up.

“Thanks.” Marcel said, relaxing now that the danger had passed.

Robin glanced up at him.

“For saving me, I mean.” He gestured to the one who pointed the revolver at him. “He could’ve hurt me.”

“I think you’ve hurt them even worse. Not that that’s a bad thing.” She told him. Her voice reminded him of Kagami; it was calm and even like a river but carried an air of grace and dignity, demanding to be listened to.

“Yeah well, still. You saved my life, thank you.” He told her again sincerely.

“No thanks needed. Even without my intervention, you fared fine on your own. I haven’t met many who can do that.” She said.

Marcel couldn’t help but blush at the praise- he was getting praise personally from one of Gotham’s heroes!

“…..judging by your accent, you’re not from around here I take it.” It was more of a statement than a question.

“I’m from Paris. Here on a class trip but I got separated from my class and my phone’s dead so I’m lost. Trying to find my way back to the hotel.” He replied.

Her brows furrowed, if the crinkling of her domino mask was anything to go by.

“Your teacher should’ve done a headcount. To lose a student in Gotham of all places is very irresponsible.” She criticized. “Where are you staying?”

“The Bella Donna Hotel.” He replied.

She nodded. “That’s not far from here, I can escort you there.”

“You’d escort me? I feel safer already.” He said and it’s true, he did. He couldn’t but feel more reassured to be in a place with someone as capable as her watching his back.

He wasn’t sure if it was the street lamps playing tricks on his eyes with light but….were her cheeks always that pink? Did they just turn pink?

Regardless, she composed herself and offered him her hand.

“Come on, we shouldn’t waste time further, Monsieur…..?” she asked.

“Marcel. Marcel Dupain-Cheng. Please, just call me Marcel.” He replied.

She nodded. “Let’s be on our way then, Marcel.”

Before he could reply, he squeaked in surprise when she wrapped an arm around his waist and shot her grappling hook.

Marcel yelped in surprise once more when the ground disappeared from under his feet and he found himself soaring through the air, swinging with Robin.

At this angle, he couldn’t help but admire the architecture of Gotham City. It was definitely different from Paris. He felt a bit of excitement course through him at the prospect of exploring this new terrain himself.

“Having fun?” Robin asked, her lip quirked up ever so slightly in bemusement.

“I can see why you guys enjoy this.” Marcel beamed.

It didn’t take long for them to reach the hotel. Not wanting anymore unnecessary attention, she dropped him off behind the hotel.

“Thanks for the lift.” Marcel said.

“Again, no thanks needed. It was my pleasure. It’s nice to swing with someone who doesn’t scream bloody murder and claw my hair like a crazed cat.” Robin replied, recounting the times she had to do as such with the more….hysterical citizens.

“But still, it’s been an honor to meet you in person. You have my gratitude. Stay safe.” He said before turning around and jogging off.

When he glanced back, she was gone.

…….man, he wished he could pull off the disappearing act as easily as her.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Marcel blinked in surprise when he saw the class gathered in the lobby. Did they….wait here for him? Did they actually worry for him?

“Marcel!” Mme. Bustier cried out, hurrying over to him and began to fuss over him. “Where were you? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Mme. Bustier.” He lied. No need to mention the mugging incident and his encounter with Robin.

“Sorry for worrying you. I didn’t mean to get separated.” He added.

She released a breath of relief. “It’s alright, Marcel. You’re here and you’re fine now, that’s all that matters.”

‘Right, I matter so very much to you.’ He couldn’t help but think sarcastically, recalling the numerous amounts of times Mme. Bustier hadn’t taken his absence into account on school trips.

Suddenly a blonde blur tackled him.

“You nitwit! We were worried sick!” Chris hissed, gripping his shoulders and shaking him a bit. “Do you want me to look like a grandpa already?!”

Marcel laughed at his best friend’s dramatics, knowing he was worried deep down.

“Sorry, Chris.” He said.

The blonde huffed, crossing his arms and looking away.

“You better be.” He huffed. But his lip quirked up, betraying his haughtiness.

“I had to stop him from transforming to track you down. He really was worried for you.” Sabrina whispered to Marcel. “And so was I. I’m glad you’re okay.”

Marcel smiled at her.

If you had told him three years ago that he would call Chris- his past tormentor on a daily basis- and Sabrina his best friends, people he would trust to watch his back and defend him, he would’ve claimed it was more likely for Hawkmoth to become a good guy.

But time proved him wrong. Chris never bowed down to Lila and from the start, he knew she lied as easily as she breathed. Naturally, Sabrina- who was admittedly the smarter of the two- also saw through Lila’s tall tales.

It didn’t take long for their common ire towards the Italian liar to bring them closer together.

Initially, Marcel had naturally been wary but overtime, Chris proved that he genuinely wanted to be a better person and furthermore, a better _friend._

He was still haughty, sarcastic, blunt and stuck-up but he has begun to show his kinder sincere side, especially around Marcel and the few friends they have.

He no longer treated Sabrina like a henchgirl and even personally had a long heart-to-heart with her; apologizing how he took their ‘friendship’ for granted and oftentimes, bossing her around like a maid rather than a friend. He even told her that if she wanted to cut ties with him, he was fine with that. Sabrina declined and told him that she still wanted to be his friend and if possible, a better friend for _both_ of them. Chris would rather eat his own hair gel than admit it but he had cried.....a lot as he almost hugged Sabrina to death that day.

He also began to hang out with Marcel more often. Eventually, it became routine for Chris to go to Marcel’s family’s bakery or for Marcel to come over to his father’s hotel to hang out. Like Sabrina, they both had a heart-to-heart where Chris apologized for being a downright jerky dickhead to Marcel for years. The latter accepted it and both were proud to say they’ve moved on to become something better.

“Hellooooooo? Earth to Marcel? Snap outta it!” Marcel blinked, snapping out of his stupor when someone snapped their fingers in front of him. He realized it was Alix, another one of the few people in this class he can call a friend.

The skater girl may not be the most academically bright but she was far from air-headed. Her street smarts and hardcore common sense didn't make it hard for her to connect the dots after the melodrama in Lila lies never ceased.

“Sorry, zoned out a bit there.” He said sheepishly.

“Well get back into this zone, man. Come on.” Chris said, slinging an arm over his shoulder and dragging him back to their class.

“Marcel! Thank god, you’re alright.” Adrianne said when she saw him come over.

“Gotham is a dangerous place.” Lila- who was naturally by her ‘besties’ side- piped in with that sickly innocently ‘concerned’ voice that made Marcel’s ears grate like nails on chalkboard.

“You shouldn’t wander off like that, you could yourself and maybe all of us killed. I hope you didn’t do it for attention, that would be downright unsavory.” Lila added very unhelpfully.

Naturally, her second ‘bestie’ Alya instantly glared at Marcel.

‘Here we go.’ He thought, bracing himself for the verbal assault. Beside him, Chris gave a supportive shoulder squeeze.

“Seriously, Marcel? You risked your life and ours for the sake of attention?” Alya snarled.

Marcel sighed. He was not in the mood for this. He just wanted to charge his phone and sleep.

“I’m sorry everyone. I got separated and my phone died so I got lost. You all know how I am with directions.” He said, using their expectations of his airheaded clumsiness to his advantage.

“Look, it’s been a long night and it’s only the first day. I think we should all get some rest.” Mme. Bustier said, clapping her hands to get everyone’s attention.

‘Finally.’ Marcel thought. For once, she was actually doing her job!

“Goodnight, Chris. Night Sabrina. Night Alix.” He said.

“Night.” Chris said, removing his arm from his shoulders.

“Sweet dreams, Mar.” Sabrina said.

“Don’t forget to quadruple set your alarm.” Alix helpfully reminded him before going off to her own room.

On the way to his room, he was pulled aside by Adrianne.

“Everything okay, Prince? I would’ve transformed to look for you if you hadn’t-”

Marcel’s eyes widened and he slapped a palm over her mouth.

“Not here!” he hissed, glancing around as though someone could’ve heard them.

“Relax, we’re not in Paris.” Adrianne said, removing his hand.

“Exactly. You want Hawkmoth to know Chat Noire isn’t protecting Paris right now?” Marcel pointed out.

He didn’t mean to, he honest to god didn’t. It had simply happened at the wrong time and place. Chat Noire had landed on his balcony just as she ran out of time, detransforming right in front of his eyes. Both of them had panicked of course- Marcel of all people knew just how important a secret identity was, even better than her really.

He had been…..shocked that his ex-crush of all people was also his leather-cladded feline partner but….after a while, he realized it kinda made sense too. If it hadn’t been for his previous infatuation for her and the magic of the miraculous muddling his perspective a bit, he probably would’ve realized it sooner.

So of course, he swore to keep her secret. That…..admittedly made their relationship a bit more complicated, _especially_ since she’s still none the wiser of _his_ superhero alter ego.

And frankly, he wants to keep it that way.

“Sorry, Prince. I was just worried for you.” She said with an apologetic smile.

He relaxed somewhat. “Thanks for the concern.”

“How’d you get back here anyways?” she asked, genuinely curious. “No offence but something tells me you meant what you said about you and directions.”

“My directional awareness isn’t that bad.” He defended. “And well, one of the local heroes helped me.”

He put a hand up before she could ask more questions. “Look, bottom line is, you have to be careful, Adrianne. Paris is compromised enough as it is with you here and nobody here knows Chat Noire. We both know the Gothamites here might not take to a random foreign hero showing up too kindly.”

Adrianne winced. At least she was aware of how much vigilance the Bat Family have over their home turf…..and the stern eye they keep over anyone else who runs with the cape, masks and tights crowd.

“You almost sound like Milord.” She joked.

“Someone has to take care of you when he’s not around.” Marcel smoothly sassed back.

“He can do it himself if he gave me his-”

“Again, no.” Marcel cut her off, seeing where this was going….again. “We’ve talked about this.”

She pouted and years ago, that would’ve made him cave in a heartbeat.

Not anymore.

“Goodnight, Adrianne.” He said, walking past her.

“Sweet dreams, Prince.” She said before walking back to her own room.

Closing his door, Marcel tossed his jacket off and threw himself onto the gloriously soft bed. Burying his head into his pillow, he screamed in frustration.

For the past three years, Hawkmoth’s been upping his game, making the fights harder, more brutal, more violent and downright agonizing to push through.

Akumas didn’t look like cheesy colorful supervillains from some 90s cartoon anymore, they were a _threat_. Their powers and skills were becoming deadlier, their mindset smarter, their weapons and possessed objects more versatile and their numbers increasing to the point he has to deal with almost _half a dozen a day_ sometimes.

Chat Noire wasn’t helping either. If anything, she was becoming more and more irresponsible, slacking off to the point she wasn’t doing her job at all. She’d show up late to fights, sometimes not showing up at all. She’d just run into danger head on and get put out of commission or worse, getting mind controlled or captured as leverage. If that didn’t happen, she seemed more focused on flirting with him, throwing sassy quips and joking instead of trying to deduce the what the akumatized object was.

At this point, Luka, Kagami and Chris- the latter two under new identities now- became permanent wielders. Even Sabrina was now a temporary wielder of the Dog Miraculous, taking on the alias of Good Girl. She’s pretty adept at it too, making him contemplate the possibility of expanding the roster to include her as a permanent wielder as well. It was clear he couldn’t count on Chat Noire anymore and…..that hurt.

It didn’t help that Chat’s advances were becoming more and more persistent. After discovering her identity, she’s taken to showing up on his balcony to vent about it, throwing a tantrum each time she rejected him. She even started coming to him to whine as Adrianne when she had the chance.

Needless to say, any romantic attraction he had to her has gone down the drain. But in a way….it was a blessing in disguise. He had one less thing to worry about and could focus on taking down Hawkmoth.

But he still tried, god he still _tried_. He tried to see the best in her, give her another chance, reason with himself that she doesn’t have the easiest civilian life either but every tantrum, every absence, every Lila or Alya situation where she just watched and did nothing, every empty promise of support, every word that was never supported by any form of action was dwindling his faith in her for redemption.

He sighed and finally picked himself up. He managed to find the energy to wash up, change into comfier pajamas, charge his phone and quadruple set his alarm before he finally hit the hay.

Before sleep took over him, his mind strayed back to Robin.

_“That’s not far from here, I can escort you there.”_

_“Having fun?”_

_“Again, no thanks needed. It was my pleasure. It’s nice to swing with someone who doesn’t scream bloody murder and claw my hair like a crazed cat.”_

For some reason, despite his exhaustion, his beat skipped a beat and began to thump in a rhythm he hasn’t heard since his crush on Adrianne three years ago.

* * *

“Look whose back.” Dick said when he saw his youngest sister arrive back at the cave. “You’re late tonight. Something come up?”

“Took a detour to help a tourist. Nothing big.” She tried to wave off, taking off her domino mask to reveal Dahlia Wayne, only biological daughter of Bruce Wayne.

She stared at her mask. She wasn’t sure but earlier, when she talked to that boy- Marcel, she recalled- she could’ve sworn her cheeks had imperceptibly heated up, meaning she had somehow _blushed_ , of all things. Thank heavens her mask and the darkness covered it…..she hoped.

“A tourist?” Dick inquired.

“He was here on a school trip and got separated from his class.” She said, hoping it would satisfy him.

If anything, she belatedly realized she’s further pried open the can of worms if his $hit-eating grin was anything to go by.

“ _‘He’?_ ” he emphasized.

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, it was a boy. What a shock.” She said sarcastically.

“And? Did he run away screaming?”

“Dick, shut up or I will put itching powder in your suit.” She growled.

That shut him up. Hmph, good to see he knows his place.

“Wait, school trip? Was he French?” he asked, genuinely curious now.

She nodded.

“Ah….” He said, snapping his fingers in realization. “He must be part of that French class that’s coming over for the tour tomorrow at Wayne Industries. The one that won the competition.”

Now that was worthwhile information.

“Wait….” This was Dick Grayson. No way was this a fish with no line attached. “What’s the catch?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Nothing. Just saying and who knows? Maybe you’ll get to see him and know him better as a civilian.” He added casually.

She rolled her eyes. “You make it sound as though I am interested in him.”

“So you’re saying you _aren’t_?” he pointed out.

“Goodnight, Grayson.” She said curtly before turning on her heel and walking away from her incorrigible brother.

But he got the last laugh if that damn smirk was anything to go by.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Dahlia lied in her bed, staring at her ceiling, sleep eluding her. Her mind refused to succumb to blissful slumber and kept going back to one thing.

Or rather, one person.

The French boy, Marcel Dupain-Cheng.

Alright, she’s admittedly......impressed. He hadn’t flinched, hadn’t batted an eye, and hadn’t hesitated at all when those three muggers approached him.

She saw it all, she was there. She would’ve intervened but then she saw the way he naturally adjusted himself, prepared for what’s to come and well, she became intrigued.

So she observed, ready to jump in when needed.

He didn’t disappoint.

He moved with assertiveness, his techniques controlled and honed from experience, his bluebell eyes were steely and when held at gunpoint, he didn’t panic. Yes, he was taken off guard and he naturally tensed up but he still remained in control and tried to calmly diffuse the situation with words.

She’s seen boys twice his age and size piss their pants in that kind of situation.

Up close, she noted that while his body seemed slim, he had broad shoulders and was tall, almost taller than her actually. When she thought about it, his bodybuild was probably similar to Dick’s. She wouldn’t be surprised if he had lean muscle on that slim body of his.

His raven hair was messy and side-swept and his maroon leather jacket would’ve made Jason proud. It also made those bluebell eyes of his stand out even more like two blooming flowers amongst wilted grass in a dreary place like Gotham.

_“Yeah well, still. You saved my life, thank you.”_

_“I can see why you guys enjoy this.”_

She remembered how he had approached her without an ounce of fear, his entire being radiating with so much sincerity it threw her off. Many have shown her gratitude for saving their lives but….Marcel was different. His approach was softer, _warmer i_ n a way it made her insides fuzzy yet surge with accomplishment which doesn’t make sense because she’s done this countless times with numerous people in numerous similar circumstances.

Then there was that smile.

It was…..beautiful. It had the beauty of the moon and the warmth of the sun in it, making the adorable freckles on his face look like stars.

And that precious smile had been directed at _her_.

And when he had blushed, he looked……cute.

Wait, did she just call a boy cute?

She placed a hand over her heart and much to her surprise- and worry- she realized it was thumping faster than it should. And her cheeks felt warm- was she blushing?! Again?! Over a boy?!

‘Pull yourself together, Dahlia Wayne!’ she chastised.

She’s spent her whole life honing the ability to have full rein over her emotions; to be able to mold them into the sharpest blade she could use to focus on her goals and more importantly, _remain in control._

And now, this French boy has thrown off her equilibrium…..not many have been able to accomplish that outside her family, much less some random tourist she’s literally just met tonight for no more than a few minutes.

And his eyes. Those precious eyes that shone like gems yet held the depths of an ocean couldn’t get out of her mind.

Dahlia Wayne never believed in ‘love at first sight’. It was a concept she scoffed at for it was nothing more than a foolish ditzy airheaded girl’s fantasy, one desperate for the false comfort of a non-existent significant other.

Yet, as Marcel Dupain-Cheng lingered in her mind, Dahlia Wayne felt her firm disbelief in that concept waver for the first time.

_“You make it sound as though I am interested in him.”_

_“So you’re saying you aren’t?”_

…..touché, Grayson. Touché.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clarify, unlike canon Marinette, Marcel is quite tall for his age with broad shoulders. He got it from his father after reaching his growth spurt but has his mother's more lithe body. Thus, he's not that much of a brute strength brawler.


	2. The French (Cattle) Class

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dahlia meets Marcel as civilians and realizes that he's unfortunately stuck in a class full of sheep led by a sausage-haired shepherdess.

“MAR! WAKE THE HELL UP OR SO HELP ME, I’LL STING YOUR ASS!” Chris yelled, pounding on his door like his life depended on it.

Marcel awoke with a snort, just as his alarm blared off. He nearly fell off his bed in his mad scramble to grab it. Poor Tikki was knocked off her perch too.

“I’M UP, CHRIS!” he yelled back.

“Good. Better hurry in case sausage hair pulls her usual cards and ditch you again. I might not be able to save your butt.” The blonde reminded him.

“Noted.” Marcel said.

Untangling himself from the blankets, Marcel quickly went through the motions of making himself presentable for the day.

Today they were going to tour Wayne Industries. _The_ Wayne Industries owned by none other than Bruce Wayne.

Most people knew him for his billionaire playboy reputation courtesy of the infamous tabloids but….Marcel didn’t see him that way. Yes, he's a party boy socialite but he's also a philanthropist who funds numerous shelters, hospitals, schools and charity/ fund-raising events.

Marcel didn’t know how but he could just tell that the billionaire was genuinely passionate when it comes to charity work. He could tell that he didn’t simply funnel money for the sake of reputation in the public and PR’s faces. His kindness was sincere and well…..you don’t see that often with people like him.

He threw a red vest over his polo shirt and pulled on a pair of black slacks. He also added a sleeveless denim jacket he tailored personally with the embroidery of a red dragon on the back and hurriedly tied the laces of his high tops.

“The denim jacket is a nice choice.” Kaalki approved.

Marcel beamed at her approval. He knew just how rare it was for the Horse Kwami to give someone her approval.

Making sure he had his powerbank and charger, sketchbook, first aid kit- better safe than sorry- and cookies and sugar cubes for Tikki and Kaalki, he turned his phone on to check the LadyBugOut app.

Alya’s Ladyblog was no longer a trustworthy source. As much as Marcel wanted to support Alya and her dreams- even if they weren’t friends anymore- he can’t turn a blind eye to how unreliable and irresponsible the once diligent blog had become.

And so he pulled in a favor from Max- whom he was more on neutral grounds with- and together, they created the LadyBugOut app. Not only would it benefit citizens but it would also help him track down Hawkmoth.

The ladybug icon was for him when he had to make any personal announcements and double as a tracker of sorts. So citizens will know where the fight is occurring and get a heads up on which areas to avoid, staying out of the crossfire.

The cat paw icon was an akuma alert. It notified others when an akuma was out and about causing destruction, warning them to go to the nearest akuma shelter. It also doubles as an emergency number people can dial if they find a casualty.

In the past three years, Chris and Red Beetle managed to convince the mayor to pour funds into building akuma shelters so tourists and citizens who can’t evacuate out of the crossfire fast enough have an alternative to staying safe. They were definitely effective and made life easier for his superhero alter ego.

The turtle icon was a tab that presented numerous calming techniques. Meditation, tea and herbal recipes, different forms of therapy, wise calming quotes and even a step-by-step on how to calm someone from a panic attack.

The fox icon was more on psychology. The numerous forms of emotional harm one can inflict upon themselves or others without knowing they’re doing as such. It also provides tips on how to help people who are possibly gaslighting their traumatic experiences and teach them proper ways to deal with the trauma without harming themselves and potentially others in the long run.

The bee icon was filled with self-defense tutorials courtesy of Kagami, or rather, Kitsune. She’s definitely most compatible with Loong but still, she wasn’t half-bad with Trixx either. Sometimes, akumas tend to rely on their powers and intimidation but lack any form of actual combat skills. He didn’t want citizens to throw themselves into battle of course but still, at least they’ll be more assertive knowing they have some form of self-defense if push does come to shove.

The peacock icon was for akumatized forms and sentimonsters. Upon realizing a person can get akumatized multiple times and end up taking on the same form as before, Marcel decided he might as well have a tab dedicated to them and their powers as well as weaknesses should they or someone similar to them show up again.

He did it with their consent of course and never wrote down their actual civilian identities either. Sometimes, victims would also add their own tidbit of info so long as they don’t exaggerate, make them up or use it to subtly harass the former akumatized victim.

The butterfly icon was also an akuma alert. Unlike the cat, users can use it to snap a picture if they spot an akuma nearby. If Marcel is lucky enough, he can get to the akuma before it possesses another victim.

Even better, it even sent him footage and pictures from surveillance cameras. This way, he can hopefully narrow down the source they’re coming from and deduce where Hawkmoth’s lair truly is. Or better yet, get solid proof of his secret identity.

Even if he already has a suspect that’s pretty high on the short list.

But Adrianne and Chat Noire were both adamant that he was wrong and vehemently denied any possibility that Gabriel Agreste is Hawkmoth. Marcel hoped she was doing so out of love for her father and not because she’s well…..

He didn’t want to dwell on that possibility.

Checking the app, he was relieved to find that for once, Hawkmoth was quiet.

…….it better not be some calm before the storm thing again.

‘Focus, Marcel. Focus on why you’re here.’ He scolded himself.

Right, he was here to look for help. That’s why he burned the midnight oil to make sure his class won that competition for a free fully sponsored trip to Gotham, continents away from Paris.

To look for Batman, the World’s Greatest Detective.

If there’s anyone who can help him put a stop to Hawkmoth once and for all, it’s the Dark Knight and his family.

Speaking of the Dark Knight’s family……

His mind drifted back to Robin. In all honesty, it almost felt like a lucid dream now….

“MARCEL!” another yell courtesy of Chris came pounding on his door.

“Coming!” he yelped.

Placing the Horse Miraculous- disguised as stylish casual sunglasses like Chris’s- on his head, he hurriedly opened the door to see Chris standing there with his arms crossed, Sabrina and Alix- still with a slight bedhead- behind him.

“I was three seconds away from asking Alix to bust down the door.” Chris said.

Marcel didn’t know if he was serious or not…..he also didn’t want to know if Alix _did_ bring her lockpick set.

Yes, she had a lockpick set.

“Come on, let’s go!” Sabrina said, reminding them of the time crunch.

Thankfully, they made it down just as their class began to leave through the doors. Marcel tried not to groan when he realized they almost left not just him but the rest of his friends behind as well.

_Again._

“Mme. Bustier!” Sabrina called, waving her arms to get their teacher’s attention.

“Oh! Marcel, Chris, Sabrina, Alix! I thought Lila said the four of you weren’t feeling well and couldn’t make it.” She said.

Of course, typical.

“We’re fine, Mme. Bustier.” Marcel quickly said and the four of them boarded the bus.

“Oh! Good morning, Marcel. I see you’re feeling better already.” Lila greeted in her usual overly sweet voice.

“Morning, Lila.” Marcel said coldly before moving to sit at the back with his friends.

He closed his eyes as the bus departed, and prayed to every kwami and deity he knew that the tour went smoothly.

….well, as smooth as it can be with the Akuma Class.

* * *

‘No…..no….ridiculous…horrendous….atrocious….why do I even have this?!’ Dahlia thought with growing exasperation as she dug through her wardrobe.

Like Dick said, today was the day the French class was coming to tour Wayne Industries. Normally she wouldn’t even spare something like that a glance and find it an unnecessary unavoidable drag but also true to his word, Marcel was part of it.

Dahlia didn’t know why but for once, she can’t help but feel a bit more self-conscious about her choice of clothing. Clothes leave an impression and first impressions are crucial after all.

There was a knock on the door and Alfred’s voice filtered through.

“Mistress Dahlia, I hope you are ready. We are leaving in precisely 6 minutes.” He informed.

Dahlia cursed in Arabic. 6 minutes? She must hurry.

Eventually, she settled for a sleeveless button up blouse under a bolero jacket with slacks that hugged her thighs to show their curvaceous appeal but flared out under the knees for an extra flair when she walks.

For a moment, she contemplated actually wearing the painful torture garments known as heels but abandoned those in favor of wedged flats.

Glancing at her reflection, she nodded in satisfaction before she moved over to the mirror and expertly applied a bit of makeup to enunciate her features. No need to go over the top but still, a bit of dazzle wouldn’t hurt.

With that done, she made her way to the dining hall to grab a quick bite.

Unfortunately, Satan's spawn known as Jason Todd was there along with Stephanie Brown. Oh joy.

Jason whistled when he saw his youngest sister’s get-up and- wait a sec, was that makeup?! Well she’s a bit dazzled today.

“You’re looking extra dazzling today. What’s the occasion?” Stephanie asked, beating him to the punch.

“Business at father’s company like usual.” Dahlia said, pointedly ignoring them in favor of selecting a biscuit from Alfred’s biscuit box.

“Thought you hated those.” Jason pointed out.

“Yet they are unavoidable. My presence is mandatory since I will inherit it someday after all.” She told them.

“So it has nothing to do with the French class that’s touring it today?” Jason said oh so casually it.

Curse you, Dick. You have been warned; prepare to suffer at the hands of itching powder. She’ll even put a layer of adhesive to make sure the cursed substance stayed on his suit to prolong his suffering.

“First impressions are crucial. Not like you would know.” She snapped at him before storming off but not without Jason and Stephanie having the last laugh, shamelessly high-fiving each other behind her back.

She swore she’s going to put a whole bottle of itching powder in Todd’s helmet and Stephanie’s cowl. Have fun washing that out of your hair and scalps.

She went inside the limo, greeting her father and butler cordially and pointedly ignoring the knowing smug $hit-eating smirk her eldest brother _still_ had on his face.

As they drove through the familiar streets of Gotham, her mind wandered back towards Marcel Dupain-Cheng.

She wasn’t ashamed to admit that she did do a quick background check on him and his classmates last night when sleep still eluded her. For safety purposes of course. There’s no telling if there are any morally grey delinquents or bothersome troublemakers amongst them after all.

Turns out, Marcel was in fact the class president/ representative and that he was the one who wrote the essay that earned her father’s approval. She’s skimmed through it and she has to admit, she can see why it would gain her father’s seal of approval out of the numerous other schools that also applied.

She didn’t delve any further than that of course. If anyone ever found out, they’ll _never_ let her live it down and she _refused_ to give them that sort of satisfaction.

And well, it was definitely be a lot more interesting to get to know him personally in person rather than through words written in data.

“You’re in a good mood today.” Her father noted.

“What can I say? We finally have something to break the monotony in the company.” She said with a shrug.

“The French class?” Bruce clarified.

“The one I’ll be giving a tour to today? The one with a certain French boy-”

“I read the essay, it wasn’t half-bad.” She quickly cut Dick off, giving him a glare.

Much to her misery, he wasn’t fazed in the slightest. Gosh darn it, she must ask father to teach her how to make her glare as volatile as his if she ever hopes to put her siblings in their place when they become thorns in her side.

“Yes indeed. The boy has talent.” Bruce hummed. “His name is Marcel, right?”

“Marcel Dupain-Cheng, yes.” She clarified.

“Dali saved him from getting mugged last night.” Dick oh so helpfully supplied.

“Did she now?” he said, raising an eyebrow at her in that signature expression of his.

‘Itching powder and soup in his boots.’ She mentally growled.

If looks could kill, Dick would be dead three times over.

“And what’s your opinion on him?” Bruce asked casually but she wasn’t fooled. No doubt this was a test.

“He’s not just a pretty boy. Actually, he didn’t need my help to subdue the muggers. Even without my interference he would’ve managed just fine.” She admitted.

“So the guy knows self-defense?” Bruce asked.

She nodded. “He seems adept at it…..actually, he seemed experienced.” She said.

“Wow. Good-looking with good martial arts skills, it’s almost like you were meant to meet him last night.” Dick joked.

“I swear to god, Grayson.” She groaned.

“It’s no surprise. I’ve read his student profile and apparently, he’s one of their brightest students.” Bruce intercepted before his daughter decides to murder his son in the limo and stain Alfred’s seats again.

“Of course he is.” Dahlia muttered, not surprised. “How else could he have gained your seal of approval?” she quickly added before Dick could twist her words.

God, she hoped there weren’t too many red lights today in traffic.

Dick slid closer to her and she resisted the urge to bash his head out of the window.

“I mean, I’ve seen his picture and he is pretty cute.” He told her in a dramatic stage whisper.

“And you would know what my ‘type’ is?” she challenged.

“Just didn’t think he’d be in your league. But I mean, dark hair, blue eyes, pretty sure if we kidnap him and draw up the adoption papers, we can pull it off.” He said.

“I have a kunai in this jacket, Grayson. It’s still new and quite sharp.” She warned.

He backed off but if that damn smirk was anything to go by, he once again got the last laugh.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Dahlia waited for the bus with Dick at the entrance. Unlike Dick who waited a further distance away, she lingered by the doorway, a safe distance to observe.

Glancing at her reflection in the glass doors, she straightened her jacket and flipped her hair with a huff.

She’s confident she managed to impress him as Robin, so why couldn’t she do so again as Dahlia Wayne? No way will she allow her annoying siblings to waver her confidence.

She is her father’s daughter. She can and _will_ do this.

Soon, the bus pulled up and the students came down. She paid them no mind and waited to see a head of raven blue hair and those bluebell eyes once more.

She saw him come down last and he didn’t disappoint.

Now in the daytime with the sunlight, he looked even more gorgeous. The sun rays cast dappled light onto his hair, making his raven locks look like silken midnight weaved onto his scalp. He rocked the semi-formal attire that would leave numerous boys at Gotham Academy burn with envy.

Dick introduced himself, being the amiable tour guide he was assigned to be.

“Hi everyone. Welcome to Wayne Industries. I’m Dick Grayson and I’ll be your tour guide for this. Is everyone here?” he asked.

“Surprisingly, yes.” A bespectacled girl with ombre reddish-brown hair snarked, glaring at the boy who Dick recalled to be Marcel.

Dick ignored the jab but filed it away for later. Right now, he had to play tour guide and hopefully cupid for his youngest sister and the possible prince charming meant for her.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

They were cattle, the lot of them. All of those buffoons were sheep, Dahlia decided.

It was pure torture to have to hear that sausage-haired Italian girl spew nothing but utter garbage everytime she opened her mouth. She could put pollution to shame and she’s pretty sure Poison Ivy would agree with her.

The only ones who seemed to maintain braincells were Marcel- of course he would, a blonde boy by his side whom Dahlia assumed to be a friend of his along with two girls- a bespectacled ginger haired girl and a short pinkhead.

Chris Bourgeois- the mayor’s son, Sabrina Raincomprix- her father was part of the police force and Alix Kubdel- her father and brother were involved in the field of archaeology, she recalled.

“Oh yes, I would’ve asked Dahlia darling to give us the tour herself but she’s busy helping her brother Tim Todd in Thailand with some business. She asked me to come with her so we could hang but I couldn’t pass up the chance to come here with you guys.” The sausage haired girl was saying, this-

Wait…..what?!

‘Tim Todd? You can’t even lie right?!’ Dahlia clenched her fist, resisting the urge to use the kunai in her jacket to cut this harlot’s tongue off or better yet, slit her throat and get it over with.

But no, she was better than that. She wasn’t her mother’s daughter…not anymore.

Dick however seemed pretty close to snapping himself. The Italian girl has been running her mouth off nonstop since the tour started and pretty much everyone was practically ignoring him. The only ones who seem to actually pay attention with genuine interest were Marcel and his small group of friends.

He also had to bite his tongue so he didn’t laugh his ass off when he heard the sausage-haired girl mention his sister and brother ‘Tim Todd’, oh Jason will get a kick outta that.

It didn’t help that their teacher was literally just standing there doing absolutely nothing to rein the class in. God, the standard for teachers in Paris must be low nowadays.

“Man, I pity that dude.” Chris whispered to Marcel. “Must be torture to have to put up with our class’s crap.”

“The guy looks close to snapping.” Sabrina said.

“Wouldn’t stop him if he chose to snap Lie-la’s neck off.” Alix muttered.

“Alix, we’ve talked about this. No murder.” Marcel scolded playfully.

Alix shrugged. “Not like her disappearance will be a crime.” She said.

True.

Dahlia checked her watch impatiently. Fortunately, they were barely halfway through the tour and soon it’d be lunch. When the class sat down for the lunch break, she can take it as a chance to approach Marcel and hopefully befriend him in that gap of time he’s away from the rest of the cattle he calls his class.

Seriously, a boy with his talents and potential shouldn’t be amongst such pathetic peers. It was almost sad to watch them kiss the ground that sausage-haired harlot walked on.

She’s managed to discreetly tail them so far without anyone asking questions so she’d say everything was going smoothly…..

Well, minus the one blonde girl.

She noticed that she had been joined to the hip with the liar throughout the whole tour along with the bespectacled ombre haired girl. During the whole tour, blondie kept sneaking glances towards Marcel who either didn’t notice or chose to ignore it.

Dahlia didn’t know why but….each time she saw her do that, she felt a pang go through her, a pang she hasn’t felt in a while.

Jealousy.

But this was a different form of jealousy. Different from the pangs of jealousy she’d get when longing to earn the approval or affection or respect from her family in the past, different from the pangs she’d feel when she saw other girls who had the privilege to have a true loving mother.

It was….intimate in a way. So very foreign to her and she didn’t like it. She didn't like this sudden ambush of emotion. But she refused to let it control her so she reined it in.

Checking her watch once more, she was satisfied to see that it was almost time for lunch.

As if on cue, Dick clapped his hands to get their attention and the harlot finally shut up.

“Ok everyone. Lunch time! Please follow me to the cafeteria for some chow time.” He said, guiding them towards the cafeteria.

Dahlia instantly noticed Marcel and his friends sit away from the rest of their class in an inconspicuous corner. Not that she could blame him.

Marcel went to line up to grab his food……

And that’s when disaster struck.

Lila smirked, sticking her foot out, causing Marcel to lose his balance and trip forward, gravity taking hold and pulling him to meet the ground-

Dahlia’s reflexes instinctively took control. Her hand shot out as swift as a viper’s tongue and grabbed Marcel to steady him, at the same time her other hand shot out and smoothly grabbed his food tray before it could cause a mess.

Marcel blinked at the sudden change in his equilibrium and realized with a start that someone had caught him before he could kiss the floor and make a fool of himself. But who-

He turned his head and his eyes made contact with a pair of sharp emerald green eyes that shone vibrantly on the face of a girl that could give any aristocrat a run for their money.

Emerald green eyes, a sharp jawline and sharp cheekbones sculpted on a regal face framed by black shoulder-length hair in an asymmetrical bob with a body just slightly shorter than him. Her skin had a warm honey undertone, the hand that steadied him belying strength many would not expect from a pretty face such as herself.

He felt his mouth dry because she was, simply put, _gorgeous._

“You slipped.” She said and her voice pierced through his stupor and….was it just him or did she sound….familiar?

“Oh.” He said when he realized he shouldn’t just leave her hanging. “Right, I did.” He took back his food tray. “Thanks I’m….kinda clumsy.”

She raised an eyebrow as though doubting that.

Dahlia wasn’t blind. She saw the liar stick her foot out and she saw the smirk on that harlot’s face when she did it. She was tempted to shatter her knee- she knew where to hit, how much force to apply and it wouldn’t be hard to accomplish that with wedges- but no, she had to prioritize Marcel first.

“I’m Marcel by the way. Thanks again for the save…..?” he asked.

“Dahlia.” She supplied, purposely leaving out her family name.

Marcel didn’t seem to mind the absence of it and simply nodded.

“Dahlia, like the flowers that symbolize elegance, inner strength and dignity.” He said. Then his cheeks turned pink, highlighting his adorable freckles and he spluttered..

Dahlia felt her own cheeks turn a similar shade. Did he….try to smooth-talk to her? She just told him her name and he complimented her already, just like that? However, judging from his reaction, it’s clear he hadn’t been trying to pull off some cheesy flirt either; it was just something that so happened to come out of his mouth.

“So-sorry, I didn’t mean to say that- I mean, I’m not saying you aren’t elegant and strong, I’m just saying that I…uh….” Marcel cursed himself. God, his social skills needed work.

“No need to apologize. I’m quite flattered.” Dahlia said, quickly composing herself. ‘Come on, you can do this. You are Dahlia Wayne.’ She chided herself.

“Glad I could make you happy.” Marcel said, glad he hadn’t given her a bad impression and relaxing somewhat.

“I uh…..gotta go now.” He said, gesturing with his food tray to the line.

She simply nodded. “Try the caesar salad. It’s not half bad.” Then she walked off.

As she did, she realized what she told him and internally cringed.

‘Seriously? You ask him to try a salad of all things? Those were the last words you chose for your first impression? You fool.’ She scolded herself.

Sneaking a glance back, she instead saw her big brother catch her eye and give her a smug smirk, a knowing glint in his eyes.

She took it as a challenge.

And Dahlia Wayne _did not_ back down from a challenge.

Casually, she sauntered over to the table where the rest of Marcel’s friends were sitting, waiting for him.

“Is this seat empty?” she asked casually.

Alix glanced up at the sudden stranger showing up at their table. She instantly took notice of the fancy formal clothing this new chick wore.

“No, our friend is sitting there.” She said, casting a wary eye towards her.

Dahlia did the same, taking note that the girl was evidently somewhat of a tomboy and if those shoes were anything to go by, she knew how to skate. She must be pretty experience if the scars left from numerous scrapes- no doubt from falling and tripping- were anything to go by. Short as she was, she seemed lithe and wiry, probably nimble when it came to mobility.

“You can….sit somewhere else if you want. Plenty of space on the bench…..” Sabrina offered, evidently the politer one of the two. 

Dahlia gave her a cordial nod and did as such.

Unlike Alix, Sabrina was dressed neatly like a bookworm/nerd. She seemed polite if not a bit timid but her eyes were wary, telling Dahlia that she was smarter than some might give her credit for.

“Dahlia?” Marcel said, surprised to see her again……….then again, they did meet mere seconds ago.

“Small world.” Dahlia merely said.

“Friend of yours?” Chris asked with a raised brow, prodding for details.

“I literally met her seconds ago.” Marcel said.

“Wait, was she the one who saved your face from going splat?” Chris asked, recalling how he caught a glimpse of a girl catching his bro from a face plant.

“Yes and she is right here.” Dahlia couldn’t help but say, a dash of sass present. She did not enjoy being ignored when she was clearly the subject they were discussing.

“So I’ve noticed.” Chris sniffed, undaunted.

“Chris…” Marcel warned. “Wait….why are you here? No offence, but you don’t seem old enough to work here.”

“My father works here.” She said. Half-truth. “My mother is absent so he has no one to watch over me. I often accompany him here.”

“Ah, I see.” He said before taking his seat. He took a bite out of the caesar salad- so he did take her advice- and chewed.

“You’re right, it isn’t half-bad.” He told her with a smile.

‘He smiles a lot.’ She thought. She also found that…she didn’t mind seeing that smile, especially if it was aimed towards her.

“Of course I am. Was there any doubt?” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Why aren’t you sitting with the rest of your class?” she asked casually.

She instantly regretted it when she saw his mood sour. ‘Smooth, girl, reaaaal smooth.’ She mentally slapped herself.

“Cuz if we did, we’d lose our braincells.” Chris huffed, stabbing his food rather viciously while saying as such.

“Wise choice. That witch must have quite the advanced sorcery to put so many of your classmates under her thrall. It’s so pathetic it’s nearly sad.” Dahlia said.

Chris blinked and looked at her. He eyed her for a while, analyzing her, those sky blue eyes of his sharper than most people would think.

She didn't back down and evenly met his gaze. His clothing was of high quality like hers, his blonde hair well-styled and he had a pair of sunglasses on, making him look like a stereotypical rich boy. But her keen eye noticed that he did in fact have quite an athletic build, albeit not on the same level as her brothers but still, quite impressive. She also noted that he had a pin of sorts attached to his jacket, its shape vaguely resembling some sort of insect.

Then his lip quirked up into a smirk.

“Ooooh, I like you.” He said, pointing his fork at her.

Alix smirked. “Not bad.” She agreed. Girl might dress all fancy-pants formal but she had bite too.

“You don’t believe her? What gave it away?” Marcel asked.

Dahlia raised an eyebrow. “Tim Todd? She can’t even lie right. You don’t have to work for Wayne to know their names; every Gothamite who’s lived here for at least 5 years of their lives knows them.”

Sabrina however merely gave her a once over, similar to what Chris did. But Dahlia could see the gears turning in her head and the ways her eyes were calculative under the nerdy glasses.

Dahlia just winked and gave her a rueful smirk.

Clarity dawned and Sabrina took a drink from her cup to hide her own grin. Oh if only Lila knew what was gonna come back to bite her…..

Marcel snuck a glance at Dahlia and wondered why she was smirking like that and whether or not he should be worried.

Dahlia glanced at him too. That denim jacket really was nice….she wondered where he-

Wait a sec.

Her sharp eyes zeroed in on the embroidery of the dragon on his back. If she looked close enough at the scales…..was that……

“Excuse me but do you mind if I take a look at your jacket?” she asked.

Marcel blinked in surprise. “Uh….sure?” he made a move to take it off but instead Dahlia grabbed his shoulder and turned him around.

‘Where is it………’ her eyes scanned it and…..there!

Upside down, cleverly disguised amongst the scales was a signature. And upon closer inspection, that signature belonged to……

“MDC.” She realized, recalling the anonymous designer Tim Drake kept fanboying over.

“Uh…..” he looked like a deer in headlights.

Chris rolled his eyes.

“Oh just tell her and get it over with!” he huffed.

“Chris! You know-”

“That she has braincells and doesn’t put up with Lie-la’s crap. And she saved your face, doesn’t that count as something?” Chris pointed out.

Then it all clicked for Dahlia.

 **M** arcel **D** upain- **C** heng= **MDC.**

……some detective Drake was.

“Don’t worry, Monsieur MDC, I can keep a secret.” Dahlia said with a secretive smirk.

“You can’t tell anyone.” Marcel said, eyes wide making him look like a startled rabbit.

She batted her eyelashes innocently, leaning forward with her most innocent alluring smile. “Tell them what, handsome?”

His cheeks turned pink at the close proximity and he spluttered once more.

“Wish I brought popcorn.” Alix snickered to Sabrina.

“Wait.” Slowly the pink in his cheeks faded and a mischievous glint in his eyes sparked. A teasing smile came over his face as he quite boldly leaned closer to her as well.

“You think I’m handsome?” he asked teasingly.

This time it was her turn to go pink.

“Thanks. I’m flattered.” Marcel said with a triumphant grin.

“Well, would you rather I say you aren’t handsome?” Dahlia shot back after composing herself.

So he wants to play? Fine, she’ll play.

“So you’re saying I’m not handsome. Ouch.” Marcel joked.

“No, I rather think cute would suit you more.” She said.

Shoe was on the other foot now as his cheeks turned tomato red.

Chris threw his head back and laughed. He walked over and slung and arm across Marcel’s shoulders.

“Second day here and you already bagged yourself a good one.” He whispered to him dramatically. "I'm so proud." he sniffled, wiping away a fake tear.

“Chris! You’re supposed to help me!” Marcel hissed.

“Well, there are a good few restaurants in Gotham you could take her to-”

“Not what I meant!” Marcel hissed, glaring at him.

“So you’re a designer?” Dahlia said, attempting to change the topic.

Marcel nodded enthusiastically- also relieved they could have a change of subject.

“Yup, I also knitted this vest myself.” He said, gesturing to the vest he wore over his polo shirt.

Dahlia had to admit, the vest was well-made. It was meticulously knitted without a single frayed hem or loose thread with small intriguing details if you looked close enough. For instance, the yarn he used also had a bit of scarlet thread intertwined in it. It could easily pass of as something made by professionals with advanced machinery on the market. And judging by how calloused Marcel’s hands- especially his fingers- were, he’s definitely dedicated and experienced.

“You have potential. Won’t be long before you make a big name for yourself. Then again, you have already.” She said.

He blushed a bit at her praise.

“I just really like to….y’know, create stuff.” He said humbly.

Then suddenly, a hand rudely slammed down on their table, nearly knocking their trays off. They turned around to see Alya standing there, glaring at them as steam seemed to practically hiss out of her nostrils.

Dahlia eyed a nearby fork and wondered if she could use it to stab this girl's eye out through her glasses.

“Marcel, what the hell is wrong with you?!” Alya screamed into his face.

“I don’t know, Alya. Enlighten me.” Marcel sighed and like that, Dahlia watched as all the bright happiness within him was utterly drained, leaving him as an exhausted hopeless husk of himself.

Forget the fork, she’s using her kunai.

“You tried to give Lila food poisoning!” Alya said.

“He must’ve slipped it in when he….tripped.” Lila said, gritting her teeth and hunching over with a pained moan as she clutched her stomach.

‘Drama queen.’ Dahlias thought, rolling her eyes.

“You think this is funny?!” Alya roared, glaring at Dahlia when she saw her roll her eyes.

Dahlia inspected her nails, uninterested and unfazed by the angry girl. “You’re a fool.” She huffed.

“WHAT?!” Alya screeched.

“I said. You. Are. A. Fool. Would you like that in writing?” Dahlia drawled, raising an unimpressed eyebrow.

“Dahlia, don’t-” Marcel warned, not wanting her to get caught up in his problems.

“How dare you! You’re a bully, just like Marcel! No wonder you’re hanging out with him!” Alya fumed.

“Oh and you’re such a keen detective.” Dahlia said sarcastically. Then she crossed her arms across her chest, leaning back and crossing one leg over the other. She raised her eyebrow and neutralized her expression like the way her family taught her, a tactic she has utilized long before this annoying girl could so much as utter three syllables.

“Tell me, how would Marcel have slipped in something to possibly poison Lila? _Both_ of his hands were holding the tray and he was more focused on making sure he didn’t drop anything. And when he tripped, he was falling in the other direction, _away_ from your sausage-haired friend. Pray tell how something could’ve possibly magically teleported into her food to make her ill?” she asked.

“I-I- he…..she-” Alya spluttered, trying to come up with a valid comeback.

Dahlia smirked. “I-I- he…..she- is that a new dialect of French?” she mockingly asked.

“Screw you! You really are just a rude stuck-up b!tch! Have fun hanging out with the rest of these jerks!” Alya spat, face red. “Come on, Lila.” She huffed, grabbing her friend and walking off.

As soon as they were gone, Dahlia saw Marcel’s shoulder slump, tension seeping away from his body. He turned around and gave her a tired but sincere smile.

“Thanks....you didn’t have to do that.” He told her, genuine gratitude seeping from every word like last night when she saved him as Robin.

“I did.” She told him firmly and in a bold move, placed her hand over his. “That’s what friends are for.”

Marcel blinked and so did she when she realized what she just said herself.

“About time.” Chris muttered.

“I mean…..if you want that that is.” Dahlia said.

“Damn it.” Chris and Alix both said while Sabrina watched with baited breath.

Dahlia watched as Marcel’s lips curved up and his eyes gradually shone brighter and brighter until they looked like stars hung up before her very eyes. He beamed at her, once again filled with a warm light and a precious life only he could radiate.

“I would like that very much, Dahlia.”

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

A few tables away, Dick grinned behind his coffee mug.

Pulling out his phone, he texted his brother.

[Chat Name: Eldest Birbs /(^v^)/]

Nutwing: Lil birb has been promoted to friend as Dali.

Nutwing: You all owe me $20.

RedRidingHood: fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chris sometimes disguises the Bee Miraculous as a belt buckle or a pin so it doesn't stand out too much.  
> Dahlia can wear heels and she's done so before but that doesn't mean she likes them....nor does she want to unless necessary. And yeah, her family calls her 'Dali'.
> 
> EDIT: One thing I hate DC for doing is white-washing Damian. Many seem to forget that he is also of Arabian heritage, making him a POC. That is why I wanted to also describe Dahlia's skin tone in this. I apologize in advance if I did it wrong. If I did, please let me know ASAP so I can rectify my mistakes.


	3. Akumas, Heroes and (Ex) Crushes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dahlia and Dick learn that Paris has come a long way from simply being known as the City of Love and Lights.  
> Dahlia also has to remind herself that killing naive delusional blondes is frowned upon by her father. But what definitely isn't frowned upon is being there to support Marcel when he's down.  
> She may be a mere friend right now but she'll be damned if she doesn't try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adrien (or rather, Adrianne in this case) salt up ahead. Sorry Adrien/Adrianne folks but she's gonna be an asshole in this. If it helps, there's gonna be some Bustier salt too. Grab some water folks.  
> Also, I finally get the chance to write about Red Beetle's superhero costume! /^w^/ can't tell you how long I've wanted to do that. Like in Silent_Radioactivity's fic, his costume will have that magical boy theme.

Adrianne glanced back and scowled when she saw that black haired girl was still with them and even worse, she was lingering next to her Prince, talking, laughing and smiling with him.

Of course she knew she was following them. She’s known for a while now. She noticed her lingering by the doorway when they first arrived.

At first she brushed it off but as the tour went on, she realized that the black haired girl looked to be the same age as them so there’s no way she’s simply one of the employees working here.

Earlier during lunch, she wanted to sit with Marcel to show him that she genuinely wanted to be there for him like the good friend she is but Lila sunk her claws into her and told her that once again, her wrist was acting up and she needed Alya to hold her tray and Adrianne to help her decide what to eat.

Then Lila had tripped Marcel and Adrianne prepared to help him but that black haired girl swooped in and beat her to it. After that, she had the audacity to saunter over to Marcel and his friends as though she owned the place. It ruined Adrianne’s chance to try to convince Marcel to sit with the rest of the class _where he belonged._

It didn’t help that the black haired girl further antagonized Alya. Had this been Paris, she could’ve been akumatized! What was she thinking?!

Then again, she was a Gothamite so she probably didn’t know better. Still, Adrianne didn’t like her. She seemed…..off, shabby. She must have some kind of ulterior motive. They were in Gotham and some of its citizens weren’t exactly saints after all.

She watched as the girl whispered something into Marcel’s ear before he laughed. Adrianne resisted the urge to growl.

Marcel was smiling and laughing and looked so happy, happier than she’s seen in a while, happier than she’s seen him when he was with _her_.

Why doesn’t he smile or laugh that way anymore when he’s talking to her? Weren’t they friends?

Then the black haired girl made eye contact with her and she barely even spared her a glance before turning her attention back to Marcel, _her_ Prince, who did that girl think she was-

“Ok everyone! Bathroom break. Anyone needs to go to the loo, take the left turn and walk down until you see the doors. Make sure to go in pairs.” Dick said.

Yes! This was the perfect chance to talk to Marcel-

Suddenly, a notification rang from every phone in their class, even Mme. Bustier’s much to Dick and Dahlia’s surprise.

“Holy $hit, it’s an akuma!” Kim cried.

An aku-what?

Dahlia’s brows furrowed in confusion. The only thing she can recall from the term was that it was Japanese for devil or demon. What did that have to do with them?

She noticed Marcel and Chris tense up beside her. The two boys looked at one another, a silent message of sorts seeming to pass between them.

“I gotta go to the restroom.” Marcel told the teacher.

“Sure, sure. Make sure to go with someone.” Mme. Bustier said, her eyes glued to the phone, gripping it tightly.

Actually, all of the French students seem a bit tensed. Some looked nervous and Dahlia could’ve sworn one looked moments away from having a full out panic attack.

When she turned to ask Marcel and Chris what the hell was going on-

They were gone.

Right, restroom.

She went to the next best people- Alix and Sabrina.

“An akuma? What’s going on?” she asked.

“This.” The two girls said, showing her the footage.

It was a live stream of sorts and Dahlia’s eyes widened when she saw metal feathers almost as tall as her buried on almost every surface, skewering cars as though they were marshmallows and- holy shit, was that blood?!

“This is Nadja Chamack reporting live from Paris. As you can see, Hawkmoth has once again struck and from what we can see here, the akuma seems to be some sort of avian enhanced villain who can fire metal feathers as project-whoa!” she yelped as a metal feather flew by, burying itself onto the asphalt.

The cameraman faltered and when he righted himself, Dahlia was relieved to see that they were smart enough to run while report.

“Suzaku and Viperion have already arrived and are doing their best to evacuate the citizens and contain the akuma.”

Suzaku? Viperion? Were those the local heroes? Why haven’t Dahlia heard of them- why hasn’t father taken notice of them?

“Wait! Look! Red Beetle and Amber Ruche have arrived!” the camera changed direction and Dahlia blinked at what she saw.

Two more figures- both male she assumed- had arrived and were currently focused on dodging the projectiles being hurled at them from the akuma.

Dahlia tried to make out their details but it was hard considering the fact that they were constantly on the move and the cameraman himself couldn’t get too close least he gets skewered.

It was safe to assume that Red Beetle was the figure clad in red and Amber Ruche was the black and amber blurr. She also took note of their different fighting styles.

Red Beetle seemed to maneuver in a manner similar to Nightwing- minus the dramatic flair- seeming to dance around his opponent with calculated grace. Occasionally, she saw him use some form of wire- a whip possibly? No wait….was that a yoyo?!- to grapple something and pull or swing himself away from danger. It gave him an edge in mobility and he used it deflect the metal arrows even. She saw him use it as a shield, spinning it until it was a circular blurr.

She had to hand it to him; he knew how to use the seemingly toy-like weapon quite adeptly.

Amber Ruche on the other hand moved in a zig-zag pattern, his movements precise and less graceful compared to Red Beetle but no less effective. Like his comrade, he used a similar weapon to pull or swing himself away from danger and she even saw him use it to nail a hit on the akuma. Clearly he was waiting for the chance to go more onto the offensive but couldn’t.

Then she saw another two enter the fray- Suzaku and Kobra Dahlia guessed.

Suzaku seemed to be female, clad in bold scarlet with armor that resembled scales. But Dahlia noted that the armor seemed light and didn’t cover her body to the point it restricted her mobility. She also noted that she wielded a blade and with approval, knew how to wield it on the battlefield.

Viperion was the male figure clad in teal and turquoise. He moved as swift as a snake, calmly outmaneuvering the metal feathers sent his way. Not bad either.

They seemed experienced and worked well together but Dahlia wondered if they had any form of formal training like her and her family. Then again, they were handling the situation and they seemed to know what they were doing.

Dahlia made a mental note to review this footage later and ask the two girls to help her download this app for further investigation.

Soon, Suzaku unleashed a harsh gust of wind carrying red and black pop pop bombs, knocking the metal winged avian low enough for Red Beetle and Amber Ruche to grapple and yank down to the ground with their respective weapons.

Viperion rushed forward and ripped the aviator goggles off the akuma, brutally crushing it under his feet. As soon as it broke, a black butterfly fluttered out.

Red Beetle than proceeded to….catch it inside his yoyo? And when it opened, an innocent white butterfly fluttered out.

What happened next was truly the cherry on top.

Red Beetle tossed something up and she watch, gob smacked as a swarm of glowing ladybugs appeared and wait for it, wait for it…..

Everything was fixed.

Every feather on every surface, every crack, every hole, every object that was skewered or sliced cleanly in half, every single building from the walls to the windows and even the bloodstains were gone.

Everything was normal.

As though a battle had never happened in the first place, as though there hadn’t been a single casualty, as though nothing and nobody was damaged or hurt.

“How…?” she breathed out, shocked.

Behind her, she could’ve sworn she heard Dick make a strangled sound that sounded like a mix between a gasp and choke. Not that she could blame him for once.

“That’s Red Beetle’s Miraculous Cure for you.” Sabrina said.

“Red Beetle? Miraculous Cure? Akuma? Amber Ruche, Suzaku, Viperion- what the hell is going on in your city?” Dahlia asked.

What the hell indeed.

* * *

Marcel and Chris briskly walked towards the restrooms, already trying to come up with a strategy to deal with the akuma.

‘Of course, _of course_ he wouldn’t stay quiet.’ Marcel fumed. Not the first time he hoped Plagg would curse Hawkmoth with bad luck.

“I’m surprised you’re surprised at this.” Chris said though he seemed just as ticked off.

“Let’s get this over with.” Marcel huffed, entering the restroom.

“Don’t worry, Sabrina will cover for us.” Chris said, placing a hand on his shoulder to calm him down. “And with Kaalki, we’ll be in and out before Alix can make another dumb dare.”

Marcel smiled, grateful once again he had someone to watch his back.

Initially, he had been reluctant allowing Sabrina to know about their secret identities but Chris insisted that she could be trusted and well….they could use a civilian connection to help them behind the scenes. Someone who truly knows what they’re doing and how to cover up any suspicion from their peers.

Plus, Chris still had an actual close friend he could trust with this unlike him. Chris was already pulling a huge gamble taking up a miraculous again when he’s already been compromised once so the least he can have is a friend to cover his tracks.

And who better than Sabrina?

“Now, you ready to kick ass?” Chris asked, taking his sunglasses off and slicking his hair back to put the Bee Miraculous amongst his blonde locks.

“You know the magic words.” Marcel joked, taking off his sunglasses so Kaalki wouldn’t be in danger.

“Tikki! Spots on!”

“Pollen! Buzz on!”

Bright pink and yellow light filled the room. Soon, they were transformed and in their place stood their superhero alter egos.

Marcel, now Red Beetle stood there. A red and black dotted Chinese-collared vest with coattails that flare out like ladybug wings over a black suit with red accents. Red elbow-length gloves adorned his arms with knee-high cuff red boots and a red and black dotted masquerade mask. His trusty yoyo was wrapped around his waist and his raven blue hair now had red highlights as well.

Initially, he thought his costume was ridiculous, what with the whole magical boy theme. Coattails? A masquerade mask? He looked like he was dressing up for a costume party instead of fighting villains! But he was proven wrong when he realized his suit never hindered him.

In fact, his coattails sometimes seem to have a mind of their own, whipping and flaring into his opponent’s faces to disorient them and give him an opening. And when he needed to be stealthy, not once did he trip on them. Not to mention his masquerade mask never moved from his face as though it were glued on.

Chris’s, now Amber Ruche also looked ready for action. Unlike Red Beetle’s, his costume was more serious.

He wore a black suit with an amber collar and three ‘V’ amber stripes on his torso. The area on his arms and legs faded to ombre with yellow hexagons. He also wore an amber and black mask that starts from his hairline and expands to his cheekbones with lenses resembling a bee’s eyes connected to them.

All in all, a far cry from his first costume as his former alter ego, King Wasp.

Amber Ruche slammed his fist against his palm.

“Let’s do this.” He said.

One Voyage later and the two of them were back in Paris.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Another Voyage later and they back in the restroom in Wayne Industries.

“Ha! We showed that featherbrain.” Chris grinned, dusting himself off.

Marcel nodded. Thank kwami the akuma hadn’t been _too_ difficult.

But that didn’t mean there hadn’t been casualties.

Marcel swallowed, trying to not think about the occasional bloodstained metal feather he had seen earlier or the brief silhouette of what could’ve potentially been a human-

“Mar….don’t.” he heard a voice say firmly. Turning around, he saw Chris looking at him, blue eyes firm and serious. “Don’t go there.” He said softly.

Marcel sighed, running a hand through his hair. Even after three years, it never got any easier; the guilt and pain never lessened their assault.

“I know but even if I’m here, it’s still _there_.” He said.

“Then let’s go back to the others, far away from _there_.” Chris said, guiding him out of the restroom.

“….you know you’re not the only one out there, Marcel. You’re not the only one fighting…..you’re not the only one failing.” The blonde reminded him.

“I just wish it could stop. All of this, the fighting, the failing, the purifying, the akumatizing, the curing, is it selfish that sometimes I want to make an actual wish myself?” Marcel asked, tears of frustration and exhaustion forming at the corners of his eyes.

“It is selfish.” Chris said bluntly. “But if you were selfish, then why are you still fighting? Would we really be having this conversation right now if you were a selfish person, Mar?” he pointed out.

“………no.” he conceded.

“Mar, you’re the most stupidly kind and selfless person I know, okay? But you’re also human. So quit trying to play all macho, it so doesn’t suit you.” Chris huffed but Marcel could see the sincerity in his words.

“Thanks Chris. I needed that.” Marcel said.

“Good now come here.” Chris said, pausing them both in the middle of the hallway. “My god, you’re hopeless. How can you expect to woo Dahlia if you walk back with that rat’s nest on your head?” he grumbled as he set to work on fixing Marcel’s hair.

“Woo her?!” Marcel squawked.

“Uh, duh.” Chris said with an eye roll. God, he hoped his friend didn’t get hit on the head back there.

“Chris, I just met her. We _just_ became _friends_.” Marcel sighed. “And I don’t want to make the same mistake again.”

Chris winced. Riiiiight, his first crush hadn’t exactly gone well.

Marcel wasn’t ignorant. He knew how much of a naïve boy he’d been three years ago and just how wrong he’d been. His ‘crush’ on Adrianne was....obsessive, it had bothered on unhealthy- what with the pictures, the schedule and the spying- he once stole her phone for crying out loud! Sure he returned it….but still.

And back then, he never got to actually know her before he allowed his infatuation to take over. He just blindly allowed himself to become a lovesick schoolboy with a childish crush. It caused so much trouble for him and others and it didn’t help that Alya wasn’t afraid of using his past mistakes to get back at him.

The fact that his current relationship with Adrianne was as it is up to this point…..he couldn’t help but hesitate in taking the jump again.

“Look, you messed up and you know it. But…but maybe this time, you can try again and at least this time you’ll know how to not do it wrong, y’know?” Chris tried to console.

Man, three years and he still wasn’t ace at these touchy touchy mushy subjects.

“…………would she even be interested in me in the first place? I mean, look at me.” Marcel said, gesturing to himself.

Okay, now Chris wanted to bash his head against the wall- was he seriously asking that?!

“Dude, why the hell would we be having this discussion if _she_ wasn’t interested either?!” he asked, throwing his hands up because by kwami, his friend can be an idiot!

“Huh?” Marcel asked, taken off guard by his explosion.

“Do you not see the way she looked at you throughout your whole interaction?!” Chris asked, shaking his shoulders.

“Uh…..no?” he said.

Chris groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You are ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous and hopeless.” He grumbled, giving up.

….for now.

“Uh….I think we should get back to the class….?” Marcel said.

Chris just stomped off, still grumbling under his breath. Marcel chose to ignore them.

Yet….a small part of his heart was still beating that lost but familiar rhythm. A rhythm he hasn’t felt in three years.

Was it…..possible? Should he take the jump again after all?

He suddenly bumped into someone, snapping him out of his stupor.

“Marcel, there you are.” His cheeks heated up when he realized that lo and behold, he bumped into Dahlia.

Looks like he was out of luck after that akuma battle.

“You okay?” Dahlia asked, green eyes shining with concern.

“I’m fine just….had a stomachache. Must’ve been something from lunch earlier. I did skip breakfast after all.” He half-lied.

She frowned. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” She scolded. Alfred never approved of them skipping that particular meal of the day.

Have it be Batman or Bruce Wayne, Robin or Dahlia, Oracle or Barbara or anyone in the family both in and out of the mask, the faithful British butler would personally stuff breakfast down their throats every day.

“Yes mom.” Marcel teased.

“You think I’d make a good wife?” she asked playfully, hands on her hips.

“Definitely.” He replied without hesitation. Then his cheeks turned tomato red when he realized what he just blurted out.

Dahlia felt her own heart skip a beat.

“I mean, only if you want to marry that is! I’m not saying you _will_ become a wife-but I’m not saying you won’t either! As in- you won’t be able to find someone and well, if you do then that’s great but if you don’t wanna go that far that’s your choice- what I mean is, you’re an amazing woman and anyone would be lucky to have you but only if you consent!” he rambled on, waving his hands around frantically.

His face was tomato red from his nose to the tips of his ears and steam was practically hissing out of his ears. It didn’t help that Chris, Alix and Sabrina were merely watching on the sidelines…..again, the traitors.

‘ _Merde_ , I screwed up.’ Marcel thought. He just befriended her and he’s already messed that up, how much more of a failure could he be with girls?

“You think that highly of me?” Dahlia asked, quickly composing herself and for once, trying to channel a bit of Bruce Wayne into her.

“Yes. And I…..oh god.” Marcel groaned, covering his face with his hands. “That was so wrong, I’m sorry.”

He braced himself, waiting for her to say that he was creepy or walk away from him and end their friendship before it could even begin or even outright slap him.

Instead, she just placed a hand on his shoulder and gently lifted his face up to meet hers.

“Don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong. I’m honored that you hold me in such a high regard despite the short time we’ve been together.” She told him, voice even but sincere, her emerald green eyes gazing at him intensively.

“Oh……………..oh.” Marcel said, taken aback. “I….thank you.” He settled.

“Thank you, Marcel…….I don’t tell this to many but….I don’t have many friends either. Nonetheless, I’m glad I have one like you.” She said.

He smiled at her but this time, it was as gentle as a soothing wave lulling against the sandy beach. It made her heart skip a beat.

“The feeling’s mutual.” Marcel said.

From the front of the group, Dick smiled, his chest bursting with pride as he saw how much progress his sister has made with Marcel. On the first day no less!

Suddenly, a hand was raised. “Yes?” he called though he regretted it when he saw it was raised by Alya.

“Is there any sushi here? Lila’s pretty upset right now and only sushi can help calm her down since it’s what her grandma’s personal bodyguard in Japan would give her to help.” Alya said.

………….what in the ever-loving fu$k?

“Miss, in case you’ve forgotten, this _isn’t_ a restaurant, it’s a _business_ building meant for _business_.” Dick said with a false smile, his cheeks screaming in protest.

“Don’t you guys do business in the food industry too? What about the cafeteria?” Alya pushed on.

“I-it’s okay, Al. I do-don’t wanna be a bother.” Lila sniffled, wiping away a fake tear. “I’m fi-fine.”

“Sir, please understand. Lila has a few…issues.” Mme. Bustier said.

‘No kidding.’ Dick thought in anything _but_ sympathy.

“She isn’t feeling well. It’s your job as our tour guide to make sure her needs are met.” She went on.

Dick felt another indignant flare burst through him. This woman who doesn’t even bother to rein in her obnoxious class now had the audacity to lecture him on how to do this job?!

“Mme. Bustier, as their teacher, it’s _your_ job to make sure you take everything about your class into account, _especially_ the well-being of your students. If Lila did in fact have certain issues, why weren’t we informed of them ahead of time?” he asked.

“Because….because Marcel is the class representative. Didn’t he mention any of Lila’s problems when he wrote the essay?” she fumbled.

‘Now you’re throwing one of your students under the bus?!’ God, how much more irresponsible can this lady get?!

“Marcel can b-be forgetful. He sometimes lets things slip. Even th-though he’s been doing this for years.” Lila sniffled. “Normally it involves m-me.”

Alya glared at Marcel.

“You sicko! You left it out on purpose, didn’t you?!” she screamed, storming over to him.

“That’s enough!” Dick said, raising his voice. He had to solve this quick before things escalated and became even uglier than they already were.

That and his sister just made one of the biggest progresses in her life! Dick was honest to god genuinely proud that she was sincerely trying to get to know Marcel and thus far, making good leaps and bounds. There is no way in hell he’s going to let a pathological liar, a dense ill-tempered girl and an irresponsible ignorant teacher ruin that for her.

“Look, everyone’s clearly a bit shaken up after witnessing this akuma.” He said.

It was true. Actually, some of the students seemed genuinely uncomfortable, still shaky and/or tensed up from the akuma video they witnessed on their phones. A pale petite blonde wearing pink was still being held by a Goth looking girl for comfort. He could see the very real telltale signs of anxiety from some of them unlike Lila. Dick made a mental note to look into that too.

“How bout we go to one of the waiting rooms and catch a breather. Then we can continue the tour once everyone’s back on their legs. That alright with you all?” he went on.

A chorus of agreements replied.

“Then let’s go.” Dick said, herding them towards the nearest waiting rooms that were thankfully empty.

Bruce owes him a raise for dealing with this.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Marcel collapsed onto the couch, relishing the comfort it gave. Chris and Sabrina had gone over to the refreshment table for some drinks, Chris insisting on helping Marcel grab a much needed cup of coffee for him. Alix left their group in favor of going to the restroom.

Marcel turned to the side and saw Dahlia take a seat beside him, crossing one leg over the other.

He blushed when he saw how the position seemed so right for her and tried not to linger on how curvaceous the flare pants made her thighs look.

Dahlia noticed him staring through her peripheral and resisted the urge to smirk. Normally she wouldn’t stoop as low as to using her sex appeal to get attention but….maybe this could be an exception.

“Something wrong?” she asked innocently with a teasing smirk that would make Selina proud, turning around, she draped an arm over the couch, casually leaning slightly.

“Nothing.” Marcel said, looking away. Then he glanced back and….he couldn’t help but wonder how she’d look in a jumpsuit. Casual but stylish. Hm….it’s not such a bad idea……..perhaps a sleeveless jumpsuit with a halter neckline and a waist cinched belt to enunciate her slender midriff……

Dahlia's brow rose a miniscule fraction when she saw him staring at her at the same time not, his mind seemingly far away. She recognized that look; it was one Tim wore often when he’s deep in thought.

“You done? I’m not much of a model and I highly doubt I’m one for posing.” She said.

Marcel snapped out of his stupor and he blushed when he realized he’d zoned out while staring at her like some weirdo.

“Sorry, I got lost in thought.” He said.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Dahlia asked.

“………nothing, just…I think you’d look good in a jumpsuit. Then again, you’d probably look good in anything.” Marcel said.

Dahlia felt her heart stop for a beat.

She quickly forced it to beat again.

“You flatter me once again. You don’t plan on stopping I take it?” she asked.

“Do you want me to?” Marcel teased back, surprising himself.

“No, please, keep going. I insist.” She said with a playful smirk.

“I thought we were supposed to be catching a breather?” he challenged.

She shrugged. “Not my fault you continue to take my breath away with your amazing company.” She said.

It’s true. She was enjoying his company…..she hasn’t felt this way with anyone outside her family in a long time and she selfishly wanted it to last.

Too bad not everyone shared the same sentiments.

Dahlia saw a blonde hair girl make her way towards them, her green eyes glaring at her. It was the same blondie that had repetitively glanced back at them when she was talking to Marcel.

Was that…..jealousy in her eyes? At _her_?

Her eyes drifted to Marcel and it clicked.

Ah….so it was a crush. Turns out Marcel had an admirer amongst the cattle. Then again, if so why hadn’t she done anything to help him? Why hadn’t she defended him when that witch and her dog hounded him? Did she even notice Marcel’s absences, especially the one from his first night here? Some affection.

“Mar, why aren’t you sitting with the rest of the class? There’s plenty of seats there.” The blonde said in French, gesturing to the area where most of the class was gathered, doting over Lila.

Dahlia was smug that she was fluent in French. But the blondie didn’t know that and she’s definitely going to use that to her advantage.

She merely sat there and eyed her warily, making sure her expression looked a bit confused so she didn’t suspect that Dahlia understood every word she’s saying.

Dahlia took this opportunity to analyze her………………….frankly, she wasn’t impressed.

Oh sure, her body was tall and slim but Dahlia would bet that she’s at least three inches shorter than her; not to mention that her build was a mere twig in comparison to hers. Healthy? Yes, but _nowhere_ near as much muscle as her from years of relentless training and raw experience. Not to mention her rosy cheeks, long blonde hair and round green eyes made her look like a Barbie doll or worse, a porcelain doll that wasn’t built for the brutality of the real world.

“So I’ve noticed. Guess you guys expect me to sit at the back, alone just like last time, huh?” Marcel said, his tone now cold as ice and dry as a desert.

“You can sit next to me.” Adrianne offered. “You know I won’t mind. We’re friends.”

Dahlia resisted the urge to scoff. Oh please, if so then she’s been a horrible friend.

“Right, because you’re always there for me when Alya and Lila gang up on me.” Marcel said sarcastically.

“Mar, you know I am. You know I can’t just-”

“You can’t just what? Grow a spine and stand up for yourself? You can’t at least try to calm Alya down everytime she jumps to conclusions and acts before she thinks? You can’t do anything but watch and nod along with every lie Lila spews every single day?” Marcel said.

Maybe he was still tired and upset from the previous akuma battle but god, he couldn’t take it anymore. He wouldn’t allow these empty hollow words continue to weigh him down.

“You say you’re there for me, Adrianne and you say you’re my friend. You think I don’t want to believe that? You think I want to keep setting myself up for disappointment after disappointment?” he went on

“Disappointment- what did I do?!” Adrianne spluttered.

“It’s what you didn’t do!” Marcel snapped, his voice rising somewhat. He shot up to stand so he could talk to her at eye level, face to face, his eyes hard and brimming with too many emotions to put into words.

Worried this might get out of hand, Dahlia reached over and placed her hand over his. Much to her surprise and relief, it calmed him down somewhat.

The glare Adrianne shot her way was a miniscule price to pay.

“Adrianne, you say you’re there for me but are you really? You keep saying you are, you keep promising me that we’re in this together. If we are then why haven’t you ever backed up your talk? Actions speak louder than words, what action have you ever taken these past three years?

“You only come to give me empty promises and false hope and I’m sick and tired and hurt of it all. You only seek me out when you need help, when you want to use me for something….just like everyone else.” He said bitterly.

Ever since the fallout with him and Alya, his former best friend had no qualms about getting back at him through other means. Guilt-tripping him into giving her free pastries, demanding free commissions, dumping her little sisters on him at the last minute without even asking, usurping the plans he diligently go over and having the gall to say he’s being an ungrateful jerk when not once did he ever ask for anything in return.

And Alya wasn’t the only one. Lila hadn’t wasted time in using the same tactic. The only difference was that she did so with blackmail and threats. Verbal and physical….

He didn’t want to linger on that.

“Is this about what Lila did earlier? Look, all of us were shaken up-”

“Oh for the love of-! It’s not just what she did earlier, it’s what she’s been doing for the past three goddamn years! What she’s doing to me, what’s she’s doing to our class- do you really think none of this will blow up in their faces when they graduate?!” Marcel snapped, losing his patience with her naivety.

Dahlia wasn’t that far behind. She clenched her fist and resisted the urge to just slap this Barbie’s pretty perfect face.

To think, this ignorant pheasant had the audacity to lecture Marcel as though he was in the wrong and she’s the saint, as though that harlot’s crimes could simply be forgiven and forgotten.

Her fingers twitched, itching to grab the kunai or better yet, the Barbie’s neck….or best of all, that harlot’s neck.

“You don’t have my back. You never did so just…..stop, Adrianne. Spare both of us and just stop already. You want to take the high road? Fine, go ahead and walk that road yourself. You want to let Lila have her way? Go ahead but don’t expect me to be there to pull you out when you start to drown.” Marcel said, his frustration gone and instead replaced with simple exhaustion and disappointment.

“….you want me to stop being your friend? Fine, I will. Then you’ll be alone and when that happens, know that the only one to blame for that is you. Wake up and grow up, Marcel. None of this would’ve happened if you didn’t make a fuss about it from the beginning.” Adrianne said, crossing her arms and glaring at him, her chin held high defiantly.

Dahlia was gonna murder someone, she’s pretty sure she can convince Dick or Jason to help her hide the body.

“Go ahead and stew in your bitterness all you want. If you seriously think what you’re doing now will earn you pity or attention from anyone, you’re dead wrong. You could’ve just sucked it up and apologized ages ago.” She went on.

Marcel gaped at her. Was she….did she seriously think he was that shallow? That he was doing this for pity and attention? Has she always thought that lowly of him?

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you. So have fun sulking.” Adrianne snarled. Then she composed herself and took on an expression of disappointment.

“You’ve change, Marcel. You’re not the Marcel we all knew anymore.” She said.

“Not like any of you stayed the same either for the past three years.” Marcel shot back.

“Mar, come on, be reasonable. Lila could get akumatized.” Adrianne defended.

“What about me? What if _I_ get akumatized, Adrianne? Have you ever thought of that? You think I don’t feel any negative emotions everytime Lila slanders my reputation or turns my friends against me?” he asked.

“Forget it. You want to be like this? Fine. Stew in your bitterness and pride all you want. Don’t come crying to any of us afterwards.” She huffed before turning around and storming off.

Dahlia glared at the back of her head. She wished she could shoot lasers out of her eyes like Kent.

Marcel slumped down beside her, looking even more drained compared to before.

He propped his elbows on his knees and placed his face in his palms, taking deep breaths, his body rattling as though it was ready to buckle under the slightest bit of pressure and he looked so broken and despaired, it stabbed Dahlia’s heart worse than any blade.

Marcel closed his eyes, trying to fight back the tears and desperately trying to block out the pain because god, it still _hurts._

Looks like she can’t have his back as _both_ Adrianne _and_ Chat Noire…..why was he still surprised?

He felt a hand settle on his shoulder. Turning to the side, he saw Dahlia looking at him, face furrowed in worry.

“Sorry you had to see that.” He croaked out, trying to make sure none of the tears slipped.

His voice sounded just as broken, just as hopeless and resigned and the last part was the worse because it told her just how much he was used to this already. It _hurts_ but he had become _used_ to it- how many times has he allowed himself to be shattered and pieced back together in a never ending torturous cycle?

Forget heat vision, she might as well just borrow one of Jason’s sniper rifles…..or an RPG for a bigger more painful bang. Or better yet, poisonous gas, that's uglier. She’s pretty sure she can call Poison Ivy in for a favor.

“What she said isn’t true. It’s not your fault she’s delusional.” Dahlia said.

Marcel shook his head dejectedly. “She’ll get over it……I think.” He muttered.

“Get over it- how many times have the two of you have this conversation?” she asked.

Marcel shrugged. “Enough times for me to give up keeping track of.” He sighed.

“Marcel.” She said firmly. For a moment, she was about to cup his face so he would look at her but hesitated. Instead, she settled for a less intimate choice and simply grabbed his shoulders.

“You are under no obligation to forgive her for this. What she told you was wrong and _hurtful,_ simple as that. The fact that you’ve already done this numerous times with the same results show that it’s a lost cause. It’s not worth your time, nor is it worth any of your happiness.

“She doesn’t want to be your friend anymore? Her lost. The rest of the cattl- _class_ , the rest of your class doesn’t want to be your friend anymore? They’re lost. People who can’t appreciate you; people who can’t _accept_ you and support you aren’t people worth having in your life because they’ll do nothing but hurt you.

“They’re fools if they can’t see how good a person you are. Marcel, you are anything _but_ what that ignorant blonde accused you to be. Don’t ever let what anyone says for that matter ever make you think you’re anything but a person who’s simply _humane_.” She finished.

She meant it. She meant every single word- every single syllable she poured out to him.

Marcel just…..sat there, taking it in.

It’s been so long since anyone other than Chris, Sabrina, Alix, Luka, Kagami or his parents said something like that to him with that level of sincere compassion; with such firm support; such undaunting reassurance it overwhelmed him.

He felt tears spring forth once more. This time, tears not of sadness or pain but undulated happiness at the care Dahlia- a girl he’s only just met today- was opening to him.

“Thank you, Dahlia.” He said, giving her a watery but happier smile.

She smiled back. Marcel realized that she had a beautiful smile. It was.....unsure, smiling was clearly something she didn't do often, but showing a tender gentleness belying her usual stoicism.

He hoped he could see her smile like that more often.

“And you’re right. Adrianne was wrong….because I’m not alone. I have you.” He beamed.

Dahlia felt her cheeks turn pink, her heart thumping harder in her chest, her tongue beginning to tangle. She forced herself to regain control and once again, she placed her hand over his.

“And I have you.” She said.

* * *

[Groupchat: Adult Avians]

Nutwing: Our lil sis birb is soaring to such heights on her own.

Nutwing: I’m so proud TwT

DaddyBats: Why are you stalking my daughter?

Nutwing: Just looking out for my baby sis like the big bro I’m supposed to be.

RedRidingHood: stfu, you cost me $20

Nutwing: Ya reap what u sow.

RedRidingHood: f u

RedRdingHood: I’m gonna get back at you, istg

LordButtler: Language

RedRidingHood:…..how long have you been in this chat?

LordButtler: Long enough.

[RedRidingHood has left the chat]

LordButtler: And thus, my duty has been fulfilled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She may still be on the friend level, but that doesn't mean she isn't gonna give it her all. I hope I managed to keep Damian (or rather, Dahlia) in character in this.  
> Also, Sabrina is in fact in the inner inner loop. She helps cover their tracks and provide an alibi.  
> And yes, Alfred is to be feared in both the real world and virtual world.  
> Let's face it, if Alfred were to ever turn against the Bat Family, Batman wouldn't have a contingency for a threat on that level. Even the Avengers wouldn't stand a chance.  
> Oh, and Chris and Kagami's hero names.
> 
> Amber Ruche- Ruche means hive.  
> Suzaku- I searched up Japanese Dragons and saw this pop up in Wikipedia meaning vermilion bird so....why not?


	4. (Not?) Going Out On A Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They took the first leap on a rooftop.

Chris beamed proudly for his best friend. He also gave Dahlia another approval point on her tally card for being there for said best friend.

He’d seen Adrianne make her way towards Marcel and knew that if the look on her face was anything to go by, she was gonna lay some crap down on him. He’d been prepared to put down the coffee and intervene but it turns out he didn’t have to.

He’d be an even bigger liar than Lie-la if he said he wasn’t damn proud of Marcel for standing up against Adrianne and calling her out on her crap. Years ago, he would’ve stabbed himself than take Marcel’s side over Adrianne’s but well….things have changed.

Adrianne wasn’t the sweet sunshine goody two shoes girl he grew up with anymore. _Both_ of them were growing up and she refused to do so the right way- the _real_ way.

Sure, Chris didn’t exactly grow up in the right way either- his former jerky bully phase being a prime example- but still, at least he wasn’t as sheltered or naïve as her. He never let his kindness turn him into a doormat or let his politeness hold him back from his own personal stances.

“Chris, your coffee’s getting cold.” Sabrina said, snapping him out of his stupor.

“Oh, right.” He said, shaking his head.

“….are you okay? Did that akuma hit you harder than you think?” she asked him, keeping her voice low but her concern evident as her eyes scanned him for injuries.

“I’m fine, Sabrina. Just….thinking.” he sighed.

“You seem to have gotten that from Marcel.” She joked.

“No, I think I got that from you.” He teased back.

“But seriously…what’s the plan? How are the two of you going to find Ba-you-know-who?” she asked.

And that was the elephant in the room.

“I….honestly don’t know.” He admitted, stirring his coffee. “None of them are the easiest people to track down and we don’t exactly have their email.”

“Maybe you can make a Bat Signal? I mean, that’s what the GCPD use, right?” she suggested.

“And where will we find a giant light for that?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Lucky Charm….?”

“You and I both know it’s never that simple.” He pointed out. “But that’s a pretty good idea.” He added, not wanting to put her down. It was a pretty plausible plan, all things considered.

“So, what do you think of Dahlia?” Sabrina asked, changing the subject.

“She’s tolerable.” He said. Then he grinned mischievously. “She’s stoic but seems quite smitten with our man Marcel, isn’t she?”

Sabrina hummed and nodded in agreement, her lips quirking up into a similar knowing grin. “I could say the same for Marcel.”

“Whatcha talking about?” Alix asked, returning from her restroom trip.

“Our class’s sunshine girl tried to give our man Mar some crap but he stood up for himself and gave her a reality slap. Walked away in a huff afterwards. But the best part? Dahlia was there to catch him when he was at his lowest. Girl did a damn good job of snapping him out of his funk too.” Chris supplied.

Alix’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Just like that?” she asked. It wasn’t easy for anyone- even them, his own friends- to get Marcel back on his feet after that kind of encounter.

Chris and Sabrina both nodded.

Alix whistled. “Not bad. Not bad at all.” Then she thought it over and released a small laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Chris asked.

“Ironic, isn’t it? We had to leave Paris, the ‘City of Love’ and come all the way to Gotham, a city filled with psycho clowns and killer crocs for Marcel to find love.” She pointed out.

Ah yes, life truly is a melody filled with lyrics of pure irony at times.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The tour continued after that, with Dahlia still following them of course.

She mostly stayed by Marcel’s side and pointed out facts Dick left out of the tour. She wasn’t against telling him the occasional shenanigans that occurred in the seemingly pristine serious building in day-to-day lives.

“There’s seriously a supply of IVs meant specifically for coffee?” Marcel guffawed.

Dahlia nodded seriously. “At least a dozen of them.” She said.

She decided not to mention that said IVs are primarily reserved for Drake…..or that Alfred had personally added extra security and banned him from ever using them more than once every two weeks.

She also noticed Marcel would almost constantly bury his nose in his sketchbook, furiously sketching and scribbling away each time they took a brief stop in the tour.

“What are you drawing?” she asked, trying to strike up a casual conversation.

“Inspiration. Never know when some of this will give me muse.” He said, not taking his eyes off his sketching.

She nodded in approval. “Passion and perseverance, extremely appealing aspects in the world of art.” She complimented.

He blushed slightly at the praise. He was so easily flustered it was adorable.

Slowly, she felt an idea formed.

She always prided herself for her intellectual.

And this might be one of her most masterful ideas yet. It was the perfect plan.

“If you really wish for muse, I have the perfect place to supply that for you.” She said.

“Where?” Marcel asked, finally looking up from his sketchbook.

She smiled mysteriously and leaned closer to whisper into his ear. Marcel felt his ears turn red at the close proximity, her breath tingling his skin.

“Are you free tonight?” she asked.

“You could at least let me take you out to dinner first.” He joked.

This time, it was Dahlia’s ears that went red. But she plowed on.

“I’ll meet you at your hotel lobby at 8 pm sharp. That alright with you?” she asked.

“What’s the occasion?” he asked.

She winked at him.

“That’s the surprise.” She said mysteriously. “You in?”

“8 pm. Got it.” He said.

Dahlia gave a mental cheer of victory in her head. Her plan was working! Well…not that she ever had any doubt of course.

“Don’t keep me waiting~” she teased, bopping his nose, catching him off guard.

Wanting to leave him a bit of suspense, she turned around and continued on with the tour. Marcel, after blinking and regaining his situational awareness, scurried to follow.

* * *

“Marcel, calm down-” Chris tried- and rather miserably _failed_ \- to calm down his friend who was all but flipping out right now.

“You think I’m not trying?!” Marcel said, running a hand through his hair. “Oh man, what was I thinking saying yes to this da-” he paused.

………was this a date really? He did remind Chris and himself again and again that he only just befriended Dahlia after all. They just became _friends_. No more, no less and he was content with the progress they’ve made together as that.

So maybe this was just a hang out. A get-together, a small adventure, some time one-on-one to get to know one another better. Yeah….he was overreacting.

“Saying yes to this…..?” Chris prodded.

“Hang out. Y’know what, forget it. You’re right, I’m overreacting.” Marcel said, taking a deep breath and decisively calming down somewhat.

“Don’t overthink it. Just go out there and have fun. Get to know her better, the basics.” Chris said.

“Chris is right.” Tikki said, flying over to Marcel and sitting down on his shoulder, giving him a small encouraging pat on the cheek.

“She said so herself, Marcel. You’re an amazing boy anyone would be lucky to have as a friend. Show her how much you appreciate her olive branch of trust.” She advised.

“Now if you’re done pissing your pants, let’s make you look decent. I will _not_ have my bro out in public looking anything less than stylish.” Chris said, clapping his hands and rolling up his sleeves.

After some discussion, persuasion and suggestions, they managed to settle on an outfit. A cropped sky blue flannel shirt with wave embroidery on the back half buttoned over a white t-shirt and black jeans. The jeans had suspenders connected but Marcel left them to dangle on either side of his hips.

Chris gave him a once over and nodded in approval.

“Good.” He glanced at the clock. “Now, your princess will be here in 5 minutes. Best not to keep her waiting.”

Marcel nodded, trying to ignore how nervous he was. His heart felt ready to burst out of his ribcage and it was all but pounding in his throat.

‘Just a hang out with a friend. Just a hang out with a friend.’ He reminded himself, trying to calm down his nerves.

Yeah, he could do this.

Yeah! He was Marcel Dupain-Cheng and Red Beetle. He can do this!

* * *

“Barbara.” Dahlia greeted, straightforward as always.

“Hi, Dahlia. Can I help you with something?” Barbara asked.

Dahlia steeled herself for this. She can do this. Just this once.

“I require your advice for a matter of importance to me.” She said.

At that, Barbara stopped typing and turned her wheelchair around to properly face her. She wondered what could be bothering the youngest daughter in the family.

“Advice on….?” She asked.

Dahlia leaned forward, setting her hands on the armrests of her wheelchair until her faces was hovering inches away from Barbara, green eyes dead serious.

“What we are about to discuss must remain between you and me, understand? No one is to know about this. Grayson, Todd, Brown, Cain, even father and Pennyworth are to never know what I am about to ask of you, is that clear? No matter what anyone bribes, you are to not utter a single word of this or so help me I’ll make you suffer, are we clear on that?” she said.

“To answer in order; okay, alright and kapesh.” Barbara said, her mind reeling at what kind of problem could be this serious.

Dahlia took a deep breath, drawing herself up to full height, looking her in the eye and in the most serious voice-

“I need some fashion advice.”

Asked that.

 _That_ of all things.

……………… _that_ was the matter of utmost importance she needed her advice on? Fashion advice?! What kind of-

Barbara’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. This couldn’t be Dahlia- crap, it must be a clone! A spy to infiltrate them! Or worse, a shape-shifter that planned on moving on to another identity.

Dahlia rolled her eyes, already suspecting what she was thinking.

“No, I am not a clone, nor am I a shape-shifter or a spy. I assure you I am Dahlia Wayne, through and through.” She said.

“Prove it.” Barbara challenged.

“Todd was the one who roped Dick into taping your wheelchair to the ceiling and attempted to attach rockets on it to propel you across the roof during New Years Eve last year.” She replied instantly. “The rockets were even salvaged from _my_ bike.” She added rather angrily.

“….okay, it’s you.” Barbara said. “But why fashion advice?”

“Your job is to simply give advice, not question me. Will you help me or not?” Dahlia snapped, really wanting this embarrassment to be over with already.

“An eye for an eye, Dali. What’s the catch?” Barbara asked.

“…………I’m going out tonight. Not as Robin but as Dahlia Wayne.” She admitted.

“Really?” Barbara said, surprised. Dahlia rarely ever skipped her nightly patrols.

“Yes and I don’t know what to wear. Impressions are crucial.” She said.

“Would you happen to be going out with a certain French boy?” Barbara teased, recalling what happened in the groupchat.

“How did you- who was it? Grayson or Todd?” she growled.

Barbara smirked and tapped the side of her nose. “I have my sources.” Then she clapped her hands. “Now, let’s find you an outfit that’ll sweep him off his feet.”

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“You are certain this attire is the best option?” Dahlia asked, eyeing herself up and down.

“You’re the one who asked for my advice. You having doubts about it now?” Barbara asked.

Dahlia gave herself a once over again. A white halter crop top under a denim jacket with high-waisted jeans and ballet flats. She even wore a pair of hoop earrings- not the obnoxiously big ones that could pass off as bracelets, these were rather small in comparison.

Simple but stylish; modest but still appealing to the eyes.

“Dahlia, you look beautiful.” Barbara told her honestly, reaching up to tuck a black lock behind her ear. She couldn’t help but feel proud for her baby sister in all but blood.

Dahlia simply nodded. “Thank you, Barbara.” She said sincerely.

Barbara smiled. “Walk with your head held high and don’t forget to smile. That’s the most important part.”

Dahlia nodded and checked the time, realizing she should get going if she wants to meet up with Marcel on time.

One opinion of hers that has never change is her opinion of the concept ‘fashionably late’. Dahlia strived for perfection and punctuality was no exception.

“Good luck.” Barbara waved as she walked off. “Stay safe.” She added.

“You know I wouldn’t be anything less.” Dahlia said before walking off.

She could do this. She was Dahlia Wayne, her father’s daughter. She was also Marcel’s friend now.

She can and _will_ do this.

* * *

Dahlia noted with approval that Marcel was already waiting for her at the lobby. Naturally, she had kept her word and arrived at 8 pm sharp.

Marcel beamed at her when she arrived, walking over to greet her.

“Hi.” He greeted. He took in her attire and it seems his previous assumption was right- she really rocked a halter neckline.

“You look….nice.” he said lamely, internally cringing.

“Thank you. You also look….nice.” she just as lamely replied.

‘Really, Dahlia? Father would be disappointed.’ She scolded.

Marcel cleared his throat and opened the door for her. A gentleman too it seems.

“Shall we?” he asked.

She smiled. “We shall.” She agreed.

Marcel whistled when he saw the sleek Aston Martin belonging to Dahlia- well, technically her father but he did say she could borrow it whenever she wanted.

“Hop in.” she said, taking her place in the driver’s seat.

“I’d offer to drive but I think I’m better off being the passenger this time.” Marcel said, putting on his seatbelt.

“Hope you’re not scared of a bit of speed.” She teased.

Marcel just smirked and leaned back in his seat. “Try me.”

And so they drove on in companionable silence. Marcel admired the city passing by his window in silent awe with Dahlia occasionally pointing out favorable locations that might pique his interest.

Eventually, they arrived at their destination.

Marcel blinked in surprise when he realized they were at Wayne Industries again. The same building he had gone on a tour with his class that morning.

“Uh, Dahlia, not to sound ungrateful but haven’t we already….?” He asked.

She just smiled at him alluringly. “It’s part of the surprise. Come on.”

He saw no reason to distrust her so he decided to go along. The building was still open to visiting hours and Dahlia simply strolled inside. Other than a few brief glances, no one spared her a second glance.

She did say her father worked here and she often accompanied him. The staff must be used to seeing her around by now.

“You sure nobody will mind two teenagers wandering around in here at this time?” he asked, worried they might get into trouble.

“Don’t worry, I have more clearance than you might suspect.” She said.

Dahlia decided to not tell him that she would technically own this building once she was of age.

She guided him to another section he didn’t recall them seeing during the tour. But if the sign was anything to go by, he realized they were heading towards the rooftop. Unfortunately, the door was locked.

“Guess we’re too late.” He said, shoulders drooping slightly in disappointment.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” She winked at him before kneeling down.

Marcel was confused only for his eyes to widen when he saw her take out a pair of lockpicks. She didn’t waste time inserting them in to work their magic.

“I thought you said you have clearance?!” he fussed, nervously glancing over his shoulder, waiting for the moment a guard shows up and throws them in hot water.

“Of course I do. I don’t carry these around for show you know.” She said smoothly.

“……you’d definitely get along with Alix like bread and butter.” He said. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

“Flattered. Look, nothing’s going to happen with me around, Marcel. I swear on my life I won’t let anything happen to you.” She told him firmly.

“………..okay. I trust you.” He said.

“Good. Now then.” She opened the door with a flourish. “After you.”

“Flattered.” He repeated to her.

He stepped out and what he saw took his breath away.

The view was nothing short of beautiful. The skyline of Gotham was proudly displayed around him for him to admire to his heart’s content. Lights twinkled like stars, windows gleamed like opulent surfaces and each outline of architecture told its own heritage.

Gargoyles were regally perched around the roof like sentient guardians. A gust of wind blew by, ruffling his raven blue air.

“It’s beautiful.” He breathed in awe. Even Paris didn’t have a skyline quite like this one.

“Indeed. Gotham may not be the brightest of places but there’s no denying the beauty she possesses.” Dahlia said, standing beside him, the wind blowing at her black hair like black elegant ribbons.

“This is…amazing, I-I can’t think of the words to describe this.” Marcel said. “Thank you, Dahlia. For showing me this.” He said, smiling at her.

Once again, Dahlia found herself as Robin, travelling back to last night where he had given her that same smile as they swung across the city together. The beauty of the moon, the warmth of the sun and the twinkle of stars all there just for her.

In that moment, she realized she would do anything and everything to protect that smile. That precious smile that’s so rare in this cruel world.

“You’re welcome, Angel.” She said.

Marcel blinked. “Angel?”

“Rather fitting, don’t you agree?” Dahlia said smoothly, managing to rein in her own surprise. “Being able to meet someone like you is a blessing not many have the privilege to receive.”

Marcel hummed. “I could say the same to you.” He said. “I’ve never met a girl like you before and I’m grateful that I have. I know we’ve only just known each other for a day but….I don’t think I’d trade you for any other girl in Gotham.”

He meant it. He meant every word. When he was around her, he just felt….safe. He felt acceptance; he felt reassured that with her there, that she’ll never fail to watch his back; he felt _whole_ around her, like she was someone he’s needed in his life for a while now and after being missing for so long, has finally filled in that empty void.

Another gust of wind blew and he shuddered. He may be wearing two layers but the flannel shirt wasn’t the thickest article of clothing he owned.

“You’re cold.” Dahlia said, taking note of his slight trembling.

“I’m fine.” He lied.

Dahlia shook her head sternly. “You’re trembling.”

“From overwhelming happiness at this amazing sight.” He lied.

“……….sure.” she drawled with a raised eyebrow.

Marcel just took his sketchbook out from his flannel shirt and didn’t waste time capturing the sight. Dahlia was content to just watch him do his work.

“…..was this why you brought me here? To give me muse?” he asked.

“What gave it away?” she teased.

“…..thank you, Dahlia. I think you just gave me the greatest muse in Gotham.” He said.

She turned away, cheeks turning pink. “Glad I could help you with such an accomplishment.”

Marcel smiled and decided this time, it was his turn to surprise her when the time came.

He sketched on a while longer before another question came to mind.

“Wait, how do you know how to pick locks?” he asked.

“I am a woman of many talents. Fortunately, I am a law-abiding citizen.” She said with a straight face though her lip imperceptibly quirked upwards, giving her away.

“Says the girl who’s technically breaking and entering.” He teased.

“Says the Angel who’s my willing accomplice.” She teased back. “But…..to truthfully answer your question….I was….quite the troublemaker as a child.”

She still winced everytime she thought back to the unsavory petulant little girl she once was. God, she really was a brat back then. Thank god her father and siblings shaped her to become someone better, someone who can truly do good in the world.

Someone who was leagues better than her dear old ‘mother’.

“Live and learn. I’d say you’ve come a long way since then.” Marcel said.

“I thought you didn’t approve of our most recent morally grey act.” She asked.

“Sometimes you gotta live life on the edge, am I right?” he said, closing his sketchbook.

Then he slowly walked forward…..

And hugged her.

Dahlia froze, her mind stopped, her heart skipped a beat and her whole world seemed to pause. It was like everything came to a standstill just for this moment.

She felt his arms wrapped around her in a gentle embrace, radiating warm like gentle sun rays; she felt his raven blue hair tickle her slightly; she felt his heart beating against her chest; she felt his chest rise and fall with every breath he took and she felt the sheer affection he was pouring into this gesture alone.

“Thank you, Dahlia. For everything. Everything you’ve done today…..every word of support you’ve said, every conversation we’ve had, you standing up for me….it means a lot more to me than you think.” He said.

Then much to her slight disappointment, he pulled away from the hug.

Looking at her now, Marcel noticed just how mesmerizing her green eyes were. They didn’t put him on edge or annoyingly grate into him like the toxic green eyes of the girl he once called his crush.

No, these were as smooth as glass yet as steely as iron. They shone like gems amongst copper sand, shrouded in mystery; if he looked close enough, he could see the dark depths of secrets they held. They were framed elegantly by naturally long black lashes, casting shadows on well-sculpted cheekbones.

Her black hair looked smooth and soft like the feathers of a bird; her body was tall, curvaceous and no doubt attractive but he could feel the muscle it was covered in when he hugged her, telling him she was more than just a pretty face.

Dahlia stared back, her green eyes taking him in as Dahlia, not Robin. She took him in as he stood there, not as a citizen she’s saved but as a boy she has the honor of spending time with.

The wind blew by, tousling his smooth raven blue locks. His bluebell eyes still shone like diamonds, as bright as stars, the night time highlighting them like comets. The longer she stared, the more she realized that there were layers under the seemingly bright surface. Depths formed from secrets and shadows from experience that weren’t the happiest in life.

His freckles gave him a youthful yet innocent look but his tall height and broad shoulders counteract it. During their embrace, she felt the muscle on his arms and true to her guess, his body was definitely covered in lean muscle like Dick’s.

Without knowing it, some force of gravity that science cannot explain pulled them closer to one another. Closer and closer until they could feel each other’s breath against their faces.

Dahlia felt herself lean closer and Marcel reciprocated, closing his eyes, their lips were pulled closer and closer, steadily closing the gap in between them-

“Young love, how sweet.” A voice said, hidden in the shadows with a dramatic sniffle.

Marcel froze, his eyes widening to the size of dinner plates.

Dahlia on the other hand tensed, knowing full well who that voice belonged too.

Marcel whipped his head around while Dahlia merely gritted her teeth and clenched her fists, anger flaring inside her like a volcano and threatening to erupt. She slowly turned her, already dreading what she’s going to see.

Lo and behold, Red Hood stood there in all his glory, pretending to wipe away a fake tear despite the fact that he was wearing a frickin helmet that covered his entire head for crying out loud.

“Sorry, am I interrupting something?” Red Hood asked and oh Dahlia can practically see the goddamn smirk on his face under the helmet she swear to god she’s going to fill with itching powder and glue tacks into.

“I-uh-um we were just-uh…..” Marcel stumbled, his face was so red Dahlia worried he might get an aneurism at this rate.

“You kids do realize breaking and entering is illegal, right?” Red Hood teased.

“We have clearance.” Dahlia snapped, glaring at him. ‘Shut up and leave or else….’

“Ah, teenage love. Those were the days.” Red Hood sighed nostalgically.

“With all due respect, don’t you have a city to protect and criminals to apprehend?” Dahlia asked through gritted teeth, barely resisting the urge to bash this buffoon’s face, helmet be damned.

“Of course, of course. I’ll let you kids off the hook this time.” He said.

Marcel released a breath of relief.

“Thank you, Red Hood.” He said sincerely.

“Don’t mention it kid. Just don’t break the law next time. Even if it’s in the name of romance.” Red Hood said.

Marcel nodded rapidly but seriously.

Red Hood walked over to the edge of the roof and fired his grappling gun.

“Don’t be a stranger and don’t do drugs kids.” He said with a two finger salute before swinging off, leaving Marcel and Dahlia standing there.

“……………….well that was unexpected.” Marcel said, attempting to break the silence.

“Mmhm.” Dahlia said though she was already plotting revenge.

“He’s a lot more….chill than I thought he’d be.” He remarked.

It’s true. From what he’s heard, Red Hood was the more…aggressive one in the Bat Family and apparently, the only one seen to actively use guns as his primary weapon.

But Marcel couldn’t deny he had badassery.

“You’d be surprised.” She simply said.

“Yeah…….” Marcel trailed off.

Dahlia tried not to fidget and mentally cursed the fates for throwing this curveball her way.

God damn it, she managed to make it that far, she was _this close_ and now….she’s going to murder Todd if he’d just _destroyed_ her chances, by the gods don’t tell her she’s lost her chance already.

Marcel himself was already beginning to fidget.

‘Way to go, Marcel. Second night and you’ve already met another member of the Bat Family. All you had to do to get their attention was by breaking and entering. Genius, Marcel. Genius!’ he scolded himself sarcastically.

God, his first date with a girl for the first time in three years and out of all the curveballs-

Wait…….since when did he begin to think of this as a date again?

“…….h-hey Dahlia?” he asked carefully.

“Yes?” Dahlia asked, secretly relieved they no longer had to suffer in silence.

“I know this is kinda dumb but….is this a date?” he bit the bullet.

“….do you want it to be a date?” she asked.

He shrugged.

“….I do not wish to influence your personal perspective but…” she looked him straight in the eye, her green eyes holding an intensity that had Marcel hanging onto every word.

“But yes, I would be happy beyond words if this was a date.” She admitted. “But if you do not share the same sentiments on that level of intimacy, then I accept your choice.” She added.

“Actually……” a surge of confidence he never felt coursed through him. He reached out and gently tilted her chin up to meet his eyes.

“I share the same sentiments.” He said with a smile.

She smiled back and draped her arms across his shoulders.

“Shall we proceed from where we left off before Red Hood’s untimely interruption?” she asked.

His lips met hers in reply.

It felt like a million firecrackers exploded, unleashing a thousand stars in her heart.

Dahlia would look back on that night, standing on the roof of Wayne Industries with the presence of an angel and say that was one of the most joyous moments of her life.

* * *

That night, Marcel lied in bed, a dreamy goofy smile still plastered across his face. Even now, after brushing his teeth and washing his face, he could still feel Dahlia’s soft lips against his.

………………wow. They already shared their first kiss on their first hang out turned date…………….wow.

“You’re in a good mood.” Tikki giggled.

“I still can’t believe it, Tikki. I kissed her. I actually made the first move and…..” recapping it almost felt dreamlike now in all honesty.

If this was a dream though, he selfishly didn’t want to wake up from it.

“I’m happy for you, Marcel. I’m glad you managed to find someone.” She told her chosen proudly.

Marcel smiled…..but then his brows furrowed and his smile dropped.

“Do you………think I’m going too fast, Tikki? Do you think I’m jumping the gun too soon?” he asked.

He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t ignore that small part in the darkest corner of his heart and mind that’s telling him this was a double-edged blade that can and _will_ swing back to shred him.

He tried not to wander back to his former ‘crush’ on Adrianne…….look at how that turned out. The argument they had in the morning was still fresh and left a sour taste in his mouth, making his gut curdle like sour milk everytime he thought about it.

“Oh Marcel….” Tikki said, knowing what his worries and doubts were. She cupped his face with her small paws and smiled reassuringly.

“Marcel, I have lived for centuries and seen many things. Trust me when I say love was no exception. And frankly, the affection you once held for Adrianne is nothing compared to the love you truly hold for Dahlia.” She told him, voice earnest.

“So she….really does love me?” he asked.

“She was willing to break the law for you.” Tikki giggled.

Marcel chuckled. “Touché.” He agreed.

Beautiful, kind, capable, witty, mature, punctual, she really was-

Wait.

Marcel slowly sat up, a pensive look etched on his features.

“Marcel? What’s wrong?” Tikki asked.

How did Dahlia know which hotel him and his class was staying at? He recapped every conversation he had and not once did he specify his class’s accommodations. So how did she know he was staying in the Bella Donna Hotel?

Or maybe he did let it slip to her. Maybe one of his classmates let it slip- maybe Chris, Alix or Sabrina let it slip without him noticing. He did leave Dahlia alone with Alix and Sabrina when he and Chris had to deal with the akuma after all, maybe the two girls had mentioned it then and didn’t tell Marcel afterwards.

Plus, her father works for Wayne Industries. Maybe he was a higher-up of sorts and had access to check. She could've possibly asked Dick, their tour guide to do so too.

“Marcel? Are you alright?” Tikki’s concerned voice asked.

“…………nothing, Tikki. It’s nothing.” He said, deciding to let it go…..

For now.

Tha night, he dreamed of rooftops, blooming dahlia flowers, mesmerizing green, gargoyles, robins and two stunning black haired girls who refuse to leave his mind.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“DAHLIA, PUT THE KATANA DOWN!” Jason yelled.

“Say your prayers, Todd.” Dahlia snarled.

“You’d think she’d be less volatile after sharing her first kiss.” Dick remarked casually.

“If I may, Master Dick, a young girl’s emotions can be quite erratic.” Alfred said.

“Mmhm.” Bruce hummed, typing away at the Bat Computer…

Only for Dick’s words to truly register.

“Wait, what?” he asked, tearing his eyes away from the screen, a rare look of shock on his face.

One minute later, Dick found himself huddling with Jason under the Batmobile as Dahlia prowled like a panther, _two_ sharp katanas gleaming with deadliness in her grasp.

“Worth it.” Jason said without a hint of regret, a proud grin stretched across his face.

………….welp, at least one of them will die without regrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully the next chapter will finally include Marcel and Chris getting down to business in the superhero sense.  
> Don't worry, no Graysons or Todds were harmed in the making of this chapter.


	5. Bats, Birds, Bugs and (Steroid) Villains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Bat Family meet the heroes of Paris. Robin learns that there's more to Marcel than meets the eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ......my exam is in two days.......why am I writing this instead of studying- HNNNNNNNNNNNG (ノಠ益ಠ)ノ彡┻━┻

“You didn’t…..” Chris said, an ear to ear grin stretched across his face.

Marcel simply nodded with an absolutely besotted smile on his face as he recounted his date last night.

“I did.” He confirmed.

Currently, Marcel, Chris, Alix and Sabrina were hanging out in his room. Marcel sat on his bed while Chris and Sabrina were sitting on the couch. Alix opted to just drag a chair over to form a rough circle.

“You kissed her?!/ met Red Hood last night?!” Chris, Sabrina and Alix exclaimed with wide eyes.

The former two paused and shot the third one a look.

“I mean- yah! You kissed her!” Alix quickly backtracked.

“Well, yeah, I met Red Hood too.” Marcel admitted.

“What was he like up close?” Sabrina asked, leaning forward eagerly.

“Not gonna lie, I nearly pissed my pants when he showed up all of a sudden but he was…..more chill than people give him credit for.” He said.

“I always thought the guy was the type to shoot first and ask questions later.” Alix said with a shrug.

“Only to criminals, Alix.” Marcel reminded the pinkhead.

“Well, you were an accomplice in breaking and entering.” Chris pointed out.

“You guys are never gonna let that go, are you?” Marcel deadpanned.

“Nope.” They said shamelessly.

* * *

“So, how was your date?” Tim asked over his usual mug of coffee. Dahlia did not want to know how many times he’s refilled it.

“Wonderful, minus the red helmet imbecile who interfered with it.” Dahlia said with no small amount of satisfaction for both the date and having her revenge on Todd.

Said brother of hers was currently grumbling under his breath as he set to work on cleaning his helmet to remove the tacks she glued inside it.

“Dahlia.” She turned around to acknowledge her father. “A word?”

Hoping none of her nerves showed, she calmly walked over to him, trying to ignore how her heart began to beat faster from nerves.

“Yes, father?” she asked.

“I heard you broke into Wayne Industries rooftop last night with Marcel, one of the boys from the French class.” He said, voice stoic and calmly even as usual, giving nothing away.

“It was just a small act in the name of harmless fun.” She huffed defensively.

“Dahlia, you know you could have asked for proper security clearance and saved yourself the trouble.” He told her.

“I am perfectly capable of- wait…pardon?” she asked. Was he…..actually telling her that…he would help her with this?

Was he giving her his approval? Was he giving Marcel his approval?

“If you’re going to do this, I expected you of all people to want to do it right.” Her father went on. She could’ve sworn she saw his mouth imperceptibly quirk upward slightly in amusement.

“However.” He turned stern at this. This form of ‘stern’ however wasn’t the same as the one he used as Batman; it was the form of ‘stern’ he used as a father, _her_ father.

“I would have appreciated if you told me about your date last night.” He said.

“It wasn’t a date.” She said. He raised a brow at that. “Well, it wasn’t one initially.” She admitted.

“Dahlia, I’m happy for you.” He told her, his voice sincere with a rare tone of softness. “I can see that you genuinely enjoy Marcel’s company. I’m proud that you’re willing to extend a hand of friendship to someone outside of work.

“But first and foremost, I am your father and while I don’t wish to dictate your social life as it is not my place to control that aspect of your life, we’re family. If you want to see him, you have my consent so long as it doesn’t interfere with The Mission and you’re confident you can handle him should he push his boundaries.

“My only condition is that you notify me whenever you go see him instead of doing so behind my back.” He finished.

“So you’re giving me your seal of approval?” she asked.

He nodded. “If he truly makes you happy, who am I to take that from you?” he said.

In a rare moment of affection stemming from the love for her father, she hugged him.

“Thank you, father.” She said.

Bruce felt himself crack a rare smile. His daughter has come a long way from the little girl Talia and the League of Assassins molded to be a mere weapon. She’s grown to become a woman anyone could be proud to call their daughter.

“You’re welcome.” He said, hugging her back.

Then Dahlia pulled away and composed herself. “I also apologize for not notifying you sooner. You seemed busy and I assumed this matter was of trivial importance for your attention.”

“Water under the bridge.” He said. “But I do hope I’ll get the chance to meet him personally.”

“Right……about that….” She trailed off when she remembered one detail in particular.

Bruce raised an eyebrow in question.

“…I haven’t told him my surname.” She confessed.

That got the attention of everyone in the room. Even Alfred who had been dusting the giant penny paused in his chores to give her a fraction of his attention.

“Wait, so he doesn’t know you’re a Wayne?” Jason asked, plucking out the last tack from his helmet.

She shook her head.

“Why didn’t you tell him?” Bruce asked, genuinely curious.

“You know how shallow some people can be. While Marcel is no doubt a kind soul, I didn’t want him to view me any differently because of my family name of all things. I wanted to get to know him and I wanted him to get to know me as a person, not as a tourist to an elitist in Gotham’s food chain.” She explained.

“Smart move.” Tim said with a nod of approval. This way she would be able to gauge if Marcel is truly in it for who she is rather than for materialistic fortune.

“Oooooh man. Kid’s gonna have a heart attack when you drop the bomb on him.” Jason said.

“Wait, doesn’t that mean the guy you shared your first kiss with is a guy who doesn’t even know your full name?” Dick pointed out.

“Hush, Grayson. The lack of my surname is irrelevant.” She said curtly.

“For now. He’s gonna start asking sooner or later you know.” Barbara pointed out.

“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.” She said.

With that said, she turned around and made her way towards the changing room to change into her Robin uniform.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Robin was paired with Nightwing for tonight’s patrol. Red Hood decided to go with Batgirl while Black Bat was partnered with Red Robin. Batman went solo as usual while Oracle and Alfred watched their backs from the Batcave.

The night was surprisingly quiet for Robin. Although Red Hood and Batgirl encountered some thugs while Batman intervened a small drug selling occurring in an alleyway, everything was quiet on Robin’s end.

It set her on edge.

“Quiet night this time, huh?” Nightwing remarked as they leaped across rooftops.

“It’s _too_ quiet.” She said.

“You still pissed that I let it slip?” he asked.

She merely huffed in reply and gave him the cold shoulder.

“Look, be mad all you want but….just know that I’m happy for you, kay? All of us are.” He told her sincerely.

“It’s only been one date.” She said.

“Am I the only one who’s still surprised that Rob managed to _actually_ go on a date?” Batgirl’s voice came through the comms.

“Willingly no less.” Red Hood added his two cents. “Guy must have balls of steel.”

“Maybe he just likes the mysterious brooding type.” Batgirl said.

“I do not brood.” Robin huffed.

“Yes you do.” Nightwing, Batgirl, Red Hood, Red Robin and Oracle replied simultaneously over the comms.

“Traitors, the lot of you.” She grumbled.

“Focus on patrol.” Batman’s stern voice cut through the banter.

That managed to silence them…..for now that is.

* * *

“Okay, you ready for this?” Marcel asked Chris.

It was pass 11 by now, almost midnight. Everyone in their class was asleep and Sabrina had already prepared their alibis- she even prepared a tape recording of them snoring that they could use if worse came to worse.

“So we’re literally just gonna go out there and run across rooftops until we spot one of them?” Chris said.

“Yeah. If we can’t find a trace of them in two nights, we’ll go with the Bat Signal.” Marcel said.

“Why not save ourselves the trouble and just go with the signal from the get go instead of wasting our time winging it?” Chris pointed out.

“The point of this is to be inconspicuous. And we don’t need the GCPD raising their eyebrows at us.” He pointed out.

“True.” His blonde friend admitted.

“Look, you don’t have to come with. I can go scout them out myself and-”

“Oh no. No, no, no, we are not discussing this again.” Chris said. “You said so yourself, we’re in Gotham, not Paris. The villains here are the real deal and we can’t just turn them powerless by breaking an object. I’ll sleep a lot better knowing I won’t have to worry about a psycho clown or some…..halloween horror-esque supervillain making you kick the bucket. Now, the night is still young, we going or not?”

“You know the magic words.” Marcel said, knowing once Chris has made up his mind, he’s made it up.

Some things never change.

A flash of pink and yellow later and Red Beetle and Amber Ruche took to the rooftops of Gotham.

“Think you can keep up?” Red Beetle asked challengingly, spinning his yoyo in preparation.

“Bring it.” Amber Ruche said with a grin, readying his trompo.

Two wires shot out before two blurs; one red and one black and amber, swung through Gotham City.

* * *

Robin flipped back just in time to dodge Bane’s fist before it could shatter her skeleton and turn her into a pulp.

God she hated it when the villains team up to make their lives even more difficult.

“Stay still you little twerp!” Bane roared. He picked up a car and hurled it towards them.

Nightwing and Batgirl shot their respective grapples, pulling themselves out of danger.

“Where’s Bats and Red?!” Batgirl asked.

“Here!” Red Hood said, unleashing a barrage of bullets towards Bane, trying to hit the tube/pump connected to the Venom. A bit difficult since the guy refused to stay still. and used his muscles as a barrier.

He ran out of ammo and had to roll away from another car that was hurled his way.

“I meant Red _Robin!_ ” Batgirl clarified, throwing three exploding batarangs towards Bane.

“Lil busy dealing with-” he paused as he threw a goon over his shoulder. “-our own crazies!” he said from his end through the comms.

Red Hood reloaded his guns and jumped out from his cover, aiming them to shoot the hell outta that steroid pumping sonnava-

“Grundy SMASH!”

…….fu$k.

Firing his grappling hook, he pulled himself away before Grundy could turn him into mash potato with his fists. Great, now they had to deal with _two_ heavy-hitters.

He landed on the ledge of the building. He turned around just in time to see Grundy hurl a piece of concrete his way.

He dashed along the ledge, debris after debris crashing behind him as Grundy relentlessly hurled whatever he could get his hands on towards him to knock him down, each one getting uncomfortably closer to him with every step.

A car crashed in front of him, exploding right smack in his face. His helmet and suit protected him from any burns but the impact knocked him off his feet.

He felt gravity take hold as he was pulled closer and closer to the ground-

Just as he prepared his grappling hook, he felt another body knock into his before his equilibrium registered that he was now swinging to safety.

He prepared to thank whichever one of the Bats saved him only to do a double take as he saw an unfamiliar face wearing a….red and black dotted masquerade mask?

Ok, what and who the fu$k?

They both landed and the newcomer pulled back his grappl- wait, was that a yoyo? A guy wearing a fancy party mask and a toy yoyo just saved his ass?!

“You okay?” newcomer asked, his voice carrying a French accent.

“Peachy. What about you? Coming back from a party?” he asked.

“That’s exactly what I thought the first time too.” newcomer said, not offended in the slightest. “So who’s the zombie hulk rip-off?”

“Grundy. The guy’s strong but he’s pretty dumb.” Red Hood supplied.

The newcomer glanced back towards Grundy. Red Hood noticed the way his eyes swept across the battle field, a calculating glint in his eyes as he analyzed all the variables for the next move. Clearly this guy seemed to be taking this seriously.

Red Beetle saw that true to his word, Grundy seemed the type to simply smash and bash rather than actually strategize how to best utilize his superior size and strength. Slowly his eyes trailed towards….wait….was that…….

“Is that an electrical station?” he asked, pointing in the distance.

“Hm?” Red Hood used his helmet to zoom in. “Yeah, why?”

“Go help your friends. I’ll deal with Grundy.” He said.

Before Red Hood could protest, the guy was already swinging off. He contemplated going after the idiot- god, he hoped this wasn’t some guy wearing a fancy costume with decent gadgets in over his head- or actually putting his trust onto a total stranger.

Unfortunately, Bane didn’t give him much time to contemplate further as he grabbed hold of Batgirl and Robin. Yeah, he did not want his sisters to get squeezed like a water balloon either.

Meanwhile, Red Beetle swung as fast as he could towards Grundy who was stomping back towards Bane and the other Bats. He pulled his yoyo close before whipping it out, whacking Grundy on the head.

Flipping in mid-air, he smoothly landed behind Grundy. With a growl, Grundy slowly turned around to face him. He had his attention now, good.

“Catch me if you can.” He taunted before shooting out his yoyo and pulling himself away.

Grundy roared and gave steps, thundering across the road after the red clad figure. Red Beetle used his agility to his advantage, easily avoiding the large projectiles of debris Grundy hurled at him.

He wrapped his yoyo around a street lamp, pulling himself towards it and crouched on top it, seeing Grundy thunder over towards him from his perch.

With a smirk, he leaped off at the last second, causing Grundy to run face first into the lamp, almost bending it over double and knocking it down.

“You really need to pay attention when you walk.” He quipped.

“Grundy….ANGRY!” he roared.

“And Red Beetle faster than Grundy.” He taunted back. ‘Time to end this game of tag.’ He thought.

The electrical station came into view but that wasn’t the exact location he was looking for. No, it was the tin fence located in the alleyway beside it, or rather, what lied behind the fence.

Heavy footsteps stomped closer and closer. He turned around and braced himself. He had to time this just right or god help him he’s going to be in for a world of pain.

“Grundy….SMASH ANNOYING RED BOY!” Grundy roared, charging straight towards him, fists larger than his head reared back in preparation to smash him into a pulp.

He shot his yoyo up and yanked himself upwards, slipping away from Grundy’s grasp and causing the hulking zombie-like brute to crash straight through the fence-

And straight towards the live transformers coursing with thousands of volts of pure electricity.

Arcs of bright electricity crackled across his gaunt skin and he roared in pain as thousand of volts coursed through his body, burning him and shocking his systems senseless.

 _Sacré blue_ , it was like a scene straight out from Frankenstein.

There was an explosion and he brought a hand up to shield himself. He dropped down, body still tensed and ready should Grundy still be capable of fighting on.

The grip on his yoyo tightened when he saw Grundy stumble out of the smoke…..

“Grundy…….sleep now…..” the giant slurred before collapsing face down in front of him.

Red Beetle released a breath of relief, the tension from his shoulder leaving him. Thank kwami that actually worked.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Bane saw Red Hood charging towards and pivoted around, making sure to hold Robin and Batgirl in front of him as human shields. No way is he gonna leave his back open so one of these punks can get rid of his Venom.

‘Fu$k, bastard’s actually using his brain.’ Red Hood cursed.

“Drop the guns or I’ll squeeze em like a grape!” Bane snarled.

“Do that and I’ll blow your brains out.” Red Hood growled. “You really wanna see which one get can the job done faster?”

Batgirl shook her head. If Red Hood crossed that line again- and god forbid he does- she’ll never be able to live with herself knowing he’s gone back down that dark path because of her.

“Hood, don’t you dare.” Robin hissed. She wished Bane wasn’t gripping her midriff, barring her access to her utility belt. And she doubt the batarangs or pellet bombs in her gloves will be able to do sufficient damage.

They’ve tried but the tubes/pumps were made of stronger material now. They weren’t easy to pierce.

“Drop em, Bane.” Red Hood said.

“……fine. You want em? Go long!” Bane said, rearing Robin back before hurling her towards Red Hood.

He braced himself and caught her, skidding back slightly.

“Gotcha.” He grunted.

“Forget me, get Batgirl.” Robin said curtly.

Before Bane could hurl Batgirl like a quarterback however, they saw a black and amber form drop down from above.

“Eat Venom _les fils de pute!”_ a male voice with an evident French accent hissed venomously as he buried something into Bane.

Whatever it was, it was definitely potently effective as Bane froze as still as a statue, unable to twitch a single muscle.

Batgirl took a deep breath, glad her ribs were no longer being put under unrelenting pressure.

The newcomer pulled back his weapon- was that a spinning top?! What was with these guys and toy-like weapons?- and glanced over at them.

“Well? You want me to slap a bow on him for you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at them.

“Who are you?” Robin asked, suspicion evident in her voice.

“The guy who just helped save your ass and hers. You’re welcome.” The newcomer said haughtily. Then he moved over and pried Bane’s fingers apart for Batgirl.

“Thanks.” She said, dropping down to her feet.

“Finally, someone with manners.” He huffed.

“You didn’t answer the question.” Robin said, stepping forward, one of her hands held ready over the hilt of her katana.

“Is everyone alright?” another voice- also laced with a French accent called. “Can someone give me a hand here?”

They all turned around and their eyes widened when they saw another newcomer clad in what seemed to be a rather…unique suit dragging a tied up and unconscious Solomon Grundy.

Now that the rush of battle was over, they had the chance to look over the two newcomers who suddenly showed up to their aid.

The one who paralyzed Bane wore a black suit with an amber collar and three ‘V’ amber stripes on his torso. The area on his arms and legs faded to ombre with yellow hexagons. He also wore an amber and black mask that starts from his hairline and expands to his cheekbones with lenses resembling a bee’s eyes connected to them.

His comrade who managed to subdue Grundy was dressed rather……formally, almost fancily in comparison.

A red and black dotted Chinese-collared vest with coattails that flare out like ladybug wings over a black suit with red accents. He wore red elbow-length gloves, knee-high cuff red boots and a red and black dotted masquerade mask. A pouch- Red Hood realized it was actually his yoyo- was wrapped around his waist and his raven blue hair had red highlights.

….now that Batgirl thought about it, he looked kinda like a magical boy.

“You coming back from a party or something?” she asked him.

“You’re the second person to say that tonight.” He said.

It didn’t take a genius to see the insect-theme both of them were sporting. No doubt they were affiliated with one another.

“My name is Red Beetle.” He introduced himself.

“Amber Ruche.” His comrade finally supplied.

“We’ve been looking for you guys. Or rather, we’ve been looking for Batman.” Red Beetle revealed.

“Why do you ask for an audience with him?” Robin asked, her suspicion unwavering.

“We need his help.” Red Beetle said.

“With what?” another voice intervened.

Red Beetle nearly jumped out of his skin. Speak of the Dark Knight and he shall appear…..

Sure enough, Batman was calmly walking towards them with Black Bat and Red Robin behind him. The Dark Knight was dragging an unconscious Riddler and Ragdoll with him while the latter two herded the beaten up goons that were in league with them.

“Not here.” Red Beetle said, composing himself.

He was glad that they were lucky enough to finally be able to find the Bat Family on their first try but still, he wished circumstances could be different. Clearly they had their hands full and he didn’t miss the slight warning beep emitting from Amber Ruche’s miraculous.

“I swear we aren’t your enemies. We don’t want to harm anyone. We just want to talk.” He said.

Batman leveled a steely gaze on him, his eyes seeming to bore straight into his soul, peeling him off layer by layer as easily as a banana to see every secret, every aspect within him.

“……meet us at the rooftop three buildings away from Wayne Industries in 2 hours.” Batman said.

Red Beetle once again released a mental breath of relief and a cheer of victory.

“Will do.” He said. “See you then.”

"By the way, you might wanna tie him up." Amber said, jabbing a thumb towards the paralyzed Bane. "The Venom won't last forever."

With that said, both him and Amber Ruche swung off, leaving the Bat Family with their unconscious Rogues and numerous questions.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“What’s taking them so long?” Amber Ruche asked, tapping his foot impatiently. He’s already recharged Pollen and was transformed back.

“Patience, Amber. It’s not easy to haul around a zombie hulk and an el luchador pumped on super steroids along with half a dozen extra goons.” Red Beetle pointed out.

“He’s the one who told us to be here in 2 hours. Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous.” He huffed.

Red Beetle wasn’t fooled. He knew Chris was just as nervous as he was, trying to cover it with haughty impatience. They were seriously taking a big gamble here and if they failed, well…..he’d be lying if he said the prospect of that unnerved him because he honest to god wouldn’t know what to do afterwards if that big a slap were to hit them.

“You can go back first if you want. Maybe they won’t be as wary if it’s just one of us.” He suggested.

“And let Big Bad Bats try to skewer you with his batarangs? No. And if one of us don’t show up they might go all paranoid and suspect there’s something up with us. They’re paranoid enough as it is. You’re the one who said all this was about gaining their trust.” Amber shot back.

“………..god, it’s bad isn’t it?” he sighed.

“What’s bad?” Amber asked.

“Amber, they had no idea who we were. Batman, the World’s Greatest Detective didn’t know who we were- does _anyone_ outside of Paris know what we’re going through right now?” he asked.

“……I think we’re about to find out.” Amber simply said though…deep down, they both knew the truth.

Soon, they saw a group of familiar figures make their way towards them. Red Beetle mentally steeled himself for what’s to come.

He can do this. He _had_ to do this. For the sake of Paris and their sanity, he had to do this.

“Thanks for agreeing to this.” He said cordially to Batman, calmly walking forward so he was closer to talk to him one on one.

“Who do you work for?” Batman asked, getting straight to the point.

“We work for nobody.” He replied.

No need to tell them about the Order of the Guardians. That’s one thing none of them needed to know.

“Where are you from?” he asked. Batman was willing to bet they’re of French origin if their accents were anything to go by but you could never be too sure.

“Paris. We’re superheroes from Paris.” Red Beetled replied.

“I’ve never heard of heroes from Paris.” Red Robin said, eyeing him warily.

Looks like their suspicions were right. No one knows about their dire situation after all.

Unbeknownst to them however, Robin’s interest was definitely piqued.

“Then you haven’t been paying attention. For the past three years, Paris has been under siege by a villain named Hawkmoth. He’s been terrorizing Paris and he’s getting more and more ruthless each day.” He said.

“Does 'akuma' ring a bell with all this?” Nightwing asked, surprising them.

"Yes, that’s exactly what we have to deal with on a daily basis.” He said.

“Akuma? As in demons?” Batman asked, frowning. If magic was at play here, the situation was definitely going to be tricky.

“Akumas are Hawkmoth’s goons. They’re the ones who do his dirty work for him.” Amber supplied.

“I think it’s easier if we start from the beginning.” Red Beetle said.

And so he told them everything. How Hawkmoth’s powers work, the cause and effect of akumas, how he and other heroes such as Amber, Suzaku and Viperion along with the occasional temporary wielders have been doing what they can to handle the threat for three years, the damage both physical and mental the ongoing battle has on Paris, Hawkmoth’s partner in crime- Mayura and her sentimonsters and last but not least, the reason he’s searched for their help in the first place.

“I’ve been trying my best to track down Hawkmoth, to deduce his real identity and narrow down where his lair is but detective work isn’t my forte.” He said.

“What about the Parisian police?” Batgirl asked.

“They’re incompetent, utterly incompetent.” Amber huffed.

“And I suspect they might be corrupted. Think about it, none of you have heard word of this for three years. Whoever’s pulling the strings must have enough sway to make sure the media doesn’t let anything leak. I wouldn’t put it past them to be able to bribe the police too.” Red Beetle pointed out.

Batman had to hand it to the boy, he was smart. Cautious, serious and if what Red Hood said is true and he managed to subdue Grundy on his own, he’s capable of thinking on the fly.

“If these akumas are so destructive, how come we’ve never heard anyone cover the damages they leave in their wake?” Batman asked.

“Miraculous Cure.” Robin spoke up, surprising them.

“How do you know about that?” Red Beetle asked, surprised.

“A video was leaked. I saw it before it was deleted.” Robin quickly lied. “It showed me a clip of you throwing up and object and miraculously fixing all the damage.”

“Wait, you can do that?” Red Hood asked. “Just sweep it all under the rug as though it never happened?”

He nodded. “If it weren’t for that, trust me when I say the Eiffel Tower would be nothing more than a memory.”

Amber blinked in surprise when there was a ‘beep’ from his trompo, notifying him of a message.

Black Bat- who had been silently observing like always- saw Amber grab his trompo. She tensed, thinking he was making a grab for his weapon only to watch in surprise as it folded open to reveal a screen. Apparently, his weapon also doubled as a communicator.

“ _Merde!”_ Amber hissed. “Red, we gotta bail.” He said to Red Beetle in French.

“What-why?” he asked.

Amber showed him the message on his communicator.

“ _Merde!”_ Red Beetle also said. “ _Bon sang_.” He hissed in frustration.

“I’m sorry but we have to go now. It’s urgent.” He told the Bat Family. “Find Marcel Dupain-Cheng. He’s a teenager living in the Bella Donna Hotel and he’s an associate of mine. He’ll explain the rest.”

Robin stiffened when she heard him mention his name. Wait…. _associate?_ Marcel was affiliated with heroes?!

Red Beetle turned to leave and Robin surged forward.

“Wait-!” she tried to grab one of his coattails but she could’ve sworn the fabric seemed to have a mind of its own as it evaded her grasp.

Both Parisian heroes leaped off the building and swung off into the distance. Robin contemplated chasing after them but her father’s voice made her refocus to the task at hand.

“Oracle, did you get all that?” he asked their behind the scene information broker.

“Got it the moment he introduced himself.” Oracle said, her fingers flying across the keyboard as her screens displayed all the info she needed to know the basics and maybe even more.

“It’s true, Bats. There really are heroes in Paris and Red Beetle seems to be the main honcho and…..you’re not gonna believe this. All this stuff seems surreal on another level.” She said.

“Wait, so the whole evil butterflies that possess you when you’re feeling pissed crud is for real?” Red Hood guffawed.

“Very real. And the whole Miraculous Cure? Red Beetle’s right; if it weren’t for that, there probably wouldn’t even be a Paris anymore. All the damage just becomes undone and I wouldn’t be surprised if the cure works for casualties too.”

They all tensed at the word ‘casualties’.

“What level of casualties are we seeing here, Oracle?” Batman asked.

“…….you guys will have to see it for yourselves.” Was all she said.

“Master Bruce, I think I speak for all when I say you should heed Red Beetle’s advice and seek out young Dupain-Cheng. A civilian should be able to shed more light from his perspective.” Alfred suggested.

Robin shook her head as Alfred reminded her that there was a lot more to Marcel than meets the eye. She wasn’t……upset or angry, just shocked.

“You okay?” Nightwing whispered, eyeing her with concern.

“I’m fine.” She said quickly.

“I’m only getting two sources here. One of them is called the Ladyblog and the other is from an app called LadyBugOut made by…..Marcel. He’s the one who created the app and he’s the one running it.” Oracle said.

Robin’s head shot up so fast she nearly got whiplash.

Just how involved was Marcel in all this?

“Evil magic butterflies and miraculous reverse UNO card damages…..” Red Robin murmured, shaking his head in evident disbelief. “What the hell has Paris turned into?”

That was the million dollar question.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Robin ran across the rooftops as fast as her legs could carry her, her heart beating in rhythm with her hurried footsteps. The Bella Donna Hotel seemed so close at the same time too far away.

She had snuck off from the rest of her family and took a detour to check on Marcel. She told Nightwing of course and the moment he gave her the green light and promised to cover for her, she ran full-speed towards Marcel’s hotel.

_“Find Marcel Dupain-Cheng. He’s a teenager living in the Bella Donna Hotel and he’s an associate of mine.”_

That….would explain why and how Marcel was so fit and how he was capable of adeptly handling those muggers. Was it because he was used to being in danger?

_“One of them is called the Ladyblog and the other is from an app called LadyBugOut made by…..Marcel. He’s the one who created the app and he’s the one running it.”_

Perhaps Marcel was simply like Oracle, working behind the scenes and providing intel while the heroes fought out on the field. An information broker or maybe an accomplice to help cover their tracks. Did he know their secret identities? Was he also helping the heroes by providing them alibis?

Then another thought rang through her that froze her veins into ice.

Has Marcel ever been caught in the crossfire of an akuma attack?

She thought back to the video she’d seen. The deadly metal feathers and the bloodstains, the panic and destruction- if Marcel hadn’t been with his class at Wayne Industries, could he have been unfortunate enough to have gotten skewered like some sick kebab by one of those feathers?

_“All the damage just becomes undone and I wouldn’t be surprised if the cure works for casualties too.”_

Oh god, could he have once been a statistic on the list of casualties too? Oracle hadn’t specified just how far casualties went- have it be injuries or worse, _deaths-_ and she found herself dreading to know.

Finally, the hotel came into view and she paused to catch her breath.

She had to compose herself. She was Robin, protector of Gotham City. She had to act professional.

The light was still on but the curtains were drawn. She pressed a button on her mask and managed to access her infrared scan.

She released a breath of relief when she saw his silhouette inside. She noticed his hands were over his head and-

Oh…..he was changing….

OH.

She felt her cheeks heat up. Thank god it was merely infrared.

Relief soon took place. Marcel was fine, he was there, he was _safe._

Once certain her cheeks were of normal colour, she nimbly hopped down to his window and gently tapped it to gain his attention.

He pulled the curtains back and jumped in surprise when he saw the familiar red, green, black and yellow form of Robin at his window.

“Robin? What are you doing here?” he asked. He opened the window and allowed her to come inside.

“I came to check on you.” She said.

“I appreciate the concern but….why?” he asked.

“I met one of your local heroes. Two of them, actually. Red Beetle and Amber Ruche.” She said.

“Oh.” Marcel said. His hand subconsciously went to touch one of the seemingly unassuming black studs in his ear. “And?” Did she know? Has she deduced it already?

“He told me you were an associate of his.” She said. Red Beetle didn’t specify when to seek out Marcel. Perhaps she was rushing things but….she just had to know.

“Oh that. I don’t do much, really.” He tried to wave off. Internally, he released a long breath of relief. She wasn't onto him yet.

“He told me you knew more than the average Parisian civilian. Not to mention you personally helped him create that app, LadyBugOut.” She pointed out.

“I didn’t do it alone, a classmate of mine gave me a hand.” He said.

“Yet, it was your idea and you’re the one currently running it.” She said. “Say what you may, Marcel but something tells me you’re more involved in this than you think.”

“Robin, its fine. I’m just a concerned citizen trying to do what he can to help. I only help when she needs it. It’s not like I throw myself into the crossfire or anything.” He defended.

“He shouldn’t be relying on you. Right now, we’re in Gotham and it’s nothing like Paris. What if one of the Rogues came after you? You could get hurt or worse, killed.” She seethed.

She knew Marcel was a kind soul but was he really willing to go that far? Make that kind of sacrifice? Was he really prepared to put his life on the line like that? Does he have no sense of self-preservation?

“Robin, I understand your worries and I appreciate the concern, I really do.” He told her honestly. “Trust me, I know the risks but I’m willing to play my part to bring down Hawkmoth and end this damn nightmare already. Sides, you said so yourself before, I can take care of myself.”

“That doesn’t mean you should.” She whispered.

“You shouldn’t be doing this either you know.” Marcel whispered.

She looked at him, confused.

“What you’re doing now, what you’ve been doing for years, what you’ve been doing since you were _barely a teenager_. Heck, none of you are supposed to be out there at night risking your lives to save Gotham. _No one_ should be out there with that kind of responsibility on their shoulders.

“But all of you are out there anyways. You keep going out day after day, night after night, fighting the good fight because you have to. It’s not easy but giving up _isn’t_ an option. Someone has to do it and you chose to step up to take on that sort of responsibility despite the risk, despite the blows you have to take and the losses you have to endure.” He said.

“Look just……..trust me on this. Trust Red Beetle on this. He’s a good hero and he just wants Paris to finally be a place where our own emotions aren’t a ticking time bomb to everyone around us.” He said, looking her right in the eye with those bluebell eyes of his.

And she saw it.

She finally saw past one of the layers and saw how jaded, how _tired_ but tough he was underneath all that kindness and cheer.

“...….okay.” she whispered. “I trust you.”

In another bold move of intimate affection, she found herself embracing him.

“Just….be careful and by the gods, stay safe.” She said.

Marcel blinked, surprised at the bold affectionate gesture Robin gave him. He never took her for the touchy-feely kind of vigilante. If anything, she always seemed so stoic and serious and he daresay cold, focused on the task at hand and never one for emotions.

He smiled when he realized underneath the cold steely exterior, she had a heart of gold.

“I feel safe already.” He said, hugging her back.

Then Robin pulled away before they could go too far. She’s already pushed boundaries as it is.

“Goodnight, Marcel.” She said.

“Goodnight, Robin. See you tomorrow night.” He said with a small wave.

She smiled back before firing her grappling and disappearing into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fight scene between Grundy and Red Beetle was based off the fight between Batman and Grundy in one of the DC animated movies called Justice League vs Teen Titans. Good show.  
> Hope I didn't disappoint you all with the fight scene. I'm working on those ;p.


	6. New Places, New Faces and (More) Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcel and Dahlia explore Gotham a bit more; Dahlia starts to have questions and takes action against the incompetency known as Marcel's teacher; Marcel meets the Bat Family; Explanations are given; Plans for action are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter up ahead. Also, more Caline Bustier salt.

Opening the windows, Marcel shivered as a gust of wind blew in. Today was going to be chillier than usual it seems.

He quickly washed up and got dressed, wearing a v-neck shirt over a black long-sleeved undershirt and throwing on a cardigan so he could fend off the cold. He also wore a pair of skinny jeans and hooked the Horse Miraculous on the collar of his shirt.

There was a knock on his door and he opened it to reveal Chris.

“Morning, sunshine.” He greeted.

“Thank god, I was worried I’d have to lose my vocal chords to wake you up.” Chris greeted back in his usual manner.

He was wearing a yellow and black fleece varsity jacket, no doubt to fend himself from the cold too. Like Marcel, Chris was also more susceptible to cold due to his miraculous. Sometimes it wasn’t as obvious but lately, it’s becoming more noticeable.

Not that that’s a bad thing. It simply meant he was more in tune with Pollen now. Plus, the side effects could be worse.

“Excited for today?” Chris asked.

Marcel nodded enthusiastically.

Today their class was going to a flea market in Gotham City. Marcel loves flea markets. It was like a treasure hunt filled with all sorts of mysteries and intrigues if you knew where to look. Not to mention some of the clothing they offered had potential to be modified into works of art!

One's man trash is another man's treasure after all. Plus, it saves his wallet the trouble of buying materials to start from scratch.

Walking down, Marcel felt proud that for once, they weren’t late as the class was still gathered at the restaurant to have breakfast.

Not wanting to push his luck, he simply grabbed a muffin and some fruits to snack on along with a cup of hot chocolate. A part of him longed for the heavenly pastries his parents would usually provide him for breakfast…….

“I’m gonna go wait out in the lobby.” Marcel said once he was finished.

“Sure.” Chris said through a mouthful of toast. Marcel wasn’t surprised to see honey spread on top of his toast. Another side effect of his miraculous.

Marcel walked into the lobby and felt a surge of delightful surprise when he saw a familiar black-haired girl lounging in one of the seats, wearing a baggy denim jacket over a yellow shirt with shorts over black leggings and ankle boots. A beanie was placed over her head, no doubt to shield herself from the cold.

“Morning, Dahlia.” He greeted cheerfully. “What brings you here?”

She shrugged. “I have no plans today. Thought you wouldn’t mind the company.” She said. “Also, your phone?”

He passed it to her and after some fiddling and typing, she gave it back.

“I added my number to your contacts.” She said.

Marcel felt like smacking himself when he belatedly realized that they hadn’t traded numbers until now.

He had the guts to kiss her on their first date but he hadn’t asked for her cell number………wow.

“I think it’s only fair if I give you mine now.” He said.

And he did. Unbeknownst to him however, Dahlia changed his number’s name to ‘Angel’ as soon as she got it back.

“So, where are you and your class going to today?” she asked.

“The flea market.” He replied. “I’m really excited. Flea markets are a real treasure trove. Going there’s like going on a treasure hunt, y’know?”

Dahlia hummed though personally, she wasn’t one for shopping have it be in a mall or a flea market. Still, she couldn’t deny that those places had their appeal at times.

“So you’re the adventurous type?” she asked.

Marcel chuckled. “Wouldn’t call myself a daredevil.” He said.

“Speaking of adventure, the day your class came over for that tour, I saw the akuma footage on Alix and Sabrina’s phones. Does Paris have superheroes?” she brought up with casual curiosity.

Marcel stiffened slightly. “Yes, we do.” He answered carefully.

“How many?” she asked.

“Well........" it...wouldn't hurt to tell her, right? "At first it was just Red Beetle and Chat Noir. Later on they also got temporary wielders like Rena Rogue, Carapace and King Wasp but the former two retired while the last one’s secret identity was compromised, thus forcing him to step down too. There’s also been other temporary heroes like Roi Singe, Pegasus and Ryuko but those only showed up once, I think. Like King Wasp, Ryuko’s identity was also compromised and she had to retire.

“Nowadays it’s mostly Red Beetle, Suzaku, Viperion and Amber Ruche who seem to be full-time heroes. Chat Noir is still around but….she’s been…..absent from some fights these days. There’s also the newest addition, Good Girl but she’s a temporary hero too.” He said.

Dahlia hummed, mentally filing away every bit of information he was telling her. All of this could prove crucial in their investigation.

“You know an awful lot about them.” She remarked.

He shrugged. “I just keep up with the news. We have an app for it.” He said.

“Can you download it for me? I must say, this is rather intriguing and it’s piqued my interest.” She asked.

“Um….sure…..?” Marcel said uncertainly.

…………meh, wouldn’t hurt to satisfy her curiosity now, would it? Plus, they were in Gotham, not like she’s gonna go over to Paris anytime soon. And who knows? Maybe she’ll get bored of it eventually and forget all about it.

Dahlia nodded her thanks when he downloaded it for her. She mentally congratulated herself on already gaining this much ground.

_“A civilian should be able to shed more light from his perspective.”_

All the more reason she should investigate this matter as a civilian herself.

“Would you like to meet up later?” she asked. “I planned on simply wandering around Gotham and seeing the sights today but I figured it’d be much more productive if I spent more time with you instead.”

“You sure? I mean….Mme. Bustier might not approve and I don’t want to cause trouble for you.” Marcel said. “Not that I don’t want your company of course.” He added.

She simply quirked her lips at him beatifically in what should've been a smile.

It was a smile that made Marcel glad he wasn’t enemies with her.

“I have my ways, Angel.” She said. She noticed the cattle of his class begin to make their way towards the lobby and decided she should make her leave now.

“See you later.” She said with a wink, blowing him a kiss before sauntering off.

Marcel blushed slightly, a goofy smile making its way onto his face.

“Ahem.” He blinked and saw Chris standing beside him. “Earth to Marcel?”

“Right, right, let’s go.” He said, scurrying towards the bus.

Chris just chuckled. Boy, he’s got it _hard_ for Dahlia.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“Alright class, we’ll meet back here in 3 hours sharp. Make sure to stay in your groups or pairs and have fun!” Mme. Bustier said before dismissing them to go explore in their own separate ways.

Naturally, Marcel went with Chris, Alix and Sabrina. He didn’t waste time roping them into checking out the clothes and accessories.

“Ooooh, this is so cute.” Sabrina squealed, holding a 90s jumper denim dress against her body.

“BOOGA BOOGA BOOGA!” Alix said, appearing behind Chris wearing a tribal mask with a creepy sharp tooth ear to ear grin etched across it.

“SWEET JESUS-! Haha, very funny.” Chris growled, managing to stop himself from having a heart attack while Alix laughed her head off.

Marcel chuckled at his friends’ antics, admiring a tie-dye jacket. Suddenly, a stall caught his eye and his interest skyrocketed when he saw its wares.

“Guys, look.” He pointed towards the stall and sure enough, they all saw the Bat Family merchandise it was selling.

“……wow.” Was all Chris said with less enthusiasm, shooting Marcel a deadpanned look, still recalling the encounter they had with the muse for their wares last night.

Marcel just shrugged, a shameless smile on his face.

“Wicked.” Alix said, walking over and trying on one of the leather jackets no doubt inspired from Red Hood.

Sabrina opted to try a purple sweater with a yellow Bat symbol on it, evidently inspired from Batgirl. It suited her, really.

Marcel scanned the rows of hoodies until his eyes fell on one in particular colours he had become familiar with since his arrival in Gotham. He fished it out and much to his pleasure, saw that it was a Robin themed hoodie.

“Whaddaya think?” he asked Chris.

“Suits you. Now, which one should I take?” he held up two different jackets. “This one?” it was space blue with light blue accents and a blue bird logo, definitely Nightwing. “Or this?” this one was black but had a bat logo outline in yellow, must be from Black Bat.

“Exhibit 2.” Marcel said.

Chris nodded and paid for it. Marcel didn’t waste time paying for his Robin hoodie and after taking off his cardigan, opted to wear it right then and there.

“Bourgeois is right, it does suit you.”

Marcel yelped, jumping out of his skin. He turned around and saw Dahlia standing there, an amused glint in her green eyes. 

“You scared me.” He gasped.

“I can see that.” She said.

“…..wait, how long have you been here?” he asked.

“Long enough.” She simply said coyly. She eyed his new hoodie approvingly. “Robin would be flattered to see you in that.” A part of her was touched that he seemed to respect her in another light as well.

“You a fan of her too?” Marcel asked.

Dahlia hummed. “She is quite the formidable hero.” No harm in praising her alter ego a bit.

“Definitely.” Marcel said. “Gotham’s lucky to have her….to have all of them.”

Dahlia felt her heart flutter in pride, not just for herself but for her family. Sure none of them did it for praise or fame but it was nice to hear others actually say that their presence truly does make a difference and make others feel safe.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in.” Chris said, taking note of Dahlia’s company.

“Just so happen to be passing by.” She said smoothly.

“Mmhm.” The blonde said, not convinced but he didn’t sound disapproving either.

“Is this badass or what?” Alix said, proudly showing off the leather jacket she wore. Emblazoned on the back in red was Red Hood’s bat symbol with bullets holes scattered on the shoulders.

……yup, Jason would definitely approve.

After Sabrina paid for her own Batgirl sweater, the group of now five teenagers continued their stroll through the flea market.

“…….soooo you want to check out anything in particular?” Marcel asked Dahlia.

She shrugged. “I’m content with letting you lead.” She said.

“Okay.” He said. His eyes scanned the marketplace until they fell on a stall selling colorful patterned shawls and scarves. “Let’s check that place out.” He suggested.

The stall not only offered scarves and shawls but also neckerchiefs, handkerchiefs, turbans and sashes.

Picking up a turban, Dahlia felt her lip quirk upwards. She might as well make the most of this and tease Marcel a bit.

“Marcel, c’mere.” She called.

He walked over to her. “Bend down a bit, would you? I wanna try something.” She asked innocently.

He was confused but complied nonetheless. Dahlia slowly wrapped the turban around his head, her hands expertly folding the cloth and tucking it in the right places.

“And….there.” she said. “I must say, you make quite the dashing sultan.” She teased.

Marcel looked at his reflection in the mirror and was surprised to see that he did in fact have a perfectly styled turban covering his hair.

Chris snickered while Alix shamelessly snapped a picture to forever remember this moment.

Seeing an olive green headscarf with white crescent patterns on it, Marcel got an idea of his own. Picking it up, he fixed it around Dahlia’s head.

“Oh be still my heart for you make quite the lovely sultana.” He said, dramatically placing a hand over his heart.

Dahlia glanced at her reflection and was surprised to see that Marcel did a pretty good job at wrapping the headscarf around her head too. She blushed at his words.

“Hey guys, stand closer together.” Chris said. “Come on, we should take a picture of this.”

Surprisingly…..neither of them protested as they stood next to each other, the side of Marcel’s head pressing against hers, both of them smiling as Chris snapped the picture for them.

“Give me your number and I’ll send it to you.” Chris told Dahlia.

And that’s how she found herself giving Chris her number and of course, that led to her trading numbers with Alix and Sabrina as well.

….huh, she’s already got four new numbers on her contacts list in one day….take that Stephanie, her social skills aren’t that hopeless.

* * *

“Have you found anything?” Batman asked Superman.

“Sorry, Bruce. I’m just as baffled as you right now.” The Man of Steel said, looking just as stupefied.

Batman had contacted Superman hoping his civilian occupation as a reporter in the Daily Planet might be able to find a loop in the system and shed some more light onto the case. Unfortunately, it looks like his press clearance wasn’t enough.

“There may be more to this than mere media coverage.” Wonder Woman chimed in.

“You suspect magic is playing a hand in this.” It was more of a statement than a question. If there’s anyone who could enlighten them on the subject of lore and magic, it was Diana.

“I _know_ magic is playing a hand in this.” She said decisively. “Make no mistake, the power of even one miraculous is not to be trifled with. Particularly the Ladybug Miraculous which is the Miraculous of Creation and by extension, Life.”

“Miraculous? Is that what grants them their powers?” Batman asked.

It would explain their peak-human condition and above average strength, agility, endurance and their unique but efficiently versatile weapons.

Wonder Woman nodded. “You should be honored that the wielder of the Ladybug Miraculous has come all this way to seek for your aid personally. Though I am surprised about one thing.”

Batman raised an eyebrow, wondering what could be more surprising than magical jewellery with beyond imagination powers.

“According to my mother, this is the second time in centuries the Ladybug Miraculous has been wielded by a man.” She said.

“And the one before this one was….?” Batman asked. He couldn’t help but be a bit curious.

“Memory serves, an Aztec warrior.” She replied.

“How did your mother get involved with these Miraculous?” Superman asked.

“She was once the wielder of the Ladybug Miraculous herself.” She replied proudly.

At that, both of Batman’s eyebrows shot up in surprise…………huh, you learn something new every day.

* * *

“Alix for the _fifth_ time, you _cannot_ buy that javelin.” Marcel groaned.

“Watch me.” She said.

“Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous.” Chris grumbled, not even trying to dissuade Alix.

“I don’t think airport authorities will let you import that back to Paris.” Sabrina said.

“Authority? Who dat? I don’t know em.” Alix said with a wild grin.

Dahlia shook her head, wondering how and why Marcel keeps this sort of company. Then again, considering the chaos that is her family back at the manor and the Titans, who was she to judge?

“Hey, you guys wanna grab a bite? I saw a café around here.” Marcel asked.

“No thanks.” Alix declined. “Heard there were gonna be some rad street art around here. I wanna go check them out.”

Sabrina nodded. “I hear they have street performances too.”

“Pass, Marcel. Not hungry.” Then a playful smirk stretched across his face. “You go on ahead with your girlfriend.”

Marcel and Dahlia both blushed at that.

 _Girlfriend_ ……was Dahlia his girlfriend? Could he call her that already? Not that that’s a bad thing and well, she wasn’t denying it but still, _girlfriend?_

Dahlia cleared her throat and simply grabbed the still dazed Marcel by the bicep and dragged him off, away from his smirking friends. Her heart was still beating at twice the rate.

 _Girlfriend._ That title kept ringing over and over again in her head.

If those friends of his ever teamed up with her siblings- and god forbid they do- they’ll never survive.

Marcel was snapped out of his stupor by the jingle of a bell. It was then he realized they have already entered the quaint café.

Something soft and furry rubbed against his leg. He glanced down and much to his delight, he realized they were in a cat café!

Numerous cats milled about as though they owned the place- some chasing one another; some lazily sleeping on whatever surface they’ve claimed; some cozying up to the other customers; some playing with the cat toys scattered about while some were just vibing.

“I didn’t know this was a cat café.” He remarked, crouching down to stroke a nearby tabby.

Dahlia hummed. “It’s a quaint place with positive feedback but it sometimes struggles in terms of the more…technical finances.” She said.

And by ‘technical finances’ she meant the scum known as loan sharks, burglars and violent delinquents. Bullies the lot of them. Pathetic, really.

“So, what would you like to have? Order whatever you want, it’s on me.” Marcel said.

Dahlia shook her head, opening her mouth, ready to decline and insist she pay instead but Marcel beat her to it.

“I insist. It’s the least I can do after you were willing to break the law for me.” He said with a playful wink at the mention of their recent breaking and entering.

“……..very well.” She conceded. That and….gosh darn it, she couldn’t say no to those bluebell eyes. To refuse would mean shattering them and she cannot condone such a sin.

He beamed at her and they made their orders. Marcel had ordered a strawberry shortcake and hot mocha while Dahlia simply ordered honey lemon tea.

As they awaited their orders, Dahlia realized this was the perfect opportunity to obtain more information.

“Forgive me if I’m bringing up an unsavoury subject but the heroes you mentioned earlier, the ones from Paris, who exactly are they fighting against?” she asked though she already knew.

“A villain named Hawkmoth.” Marcel replied. “Forgive my language but he’s a, what you Americans would call, a dickhead. A real bastard.”

Dahlia gasped in mock shock. And to think, sweet kind friendly cheerful innocent Marcel would use such vulgar vocabulary.

……yup, Jason would approve.

“Language!” she playfully scolded, waving a finger at him. “I never thought of you as the kind to use such crass wording.”

He gave her a rather grim smile in return. “Crass it might be but true it is. Look, it’s…..a bit personal for me, honestly. Actually, it’s personal for my whole class. Hawkmoth’s hurt all of us in some way or another already.”

Dahlia hoped her venomous anger didn’t show. She has never met Hawkmoth before- hell, she doesn’t even know what he looks like- but she can already tell she wouldn’t hesitate to throw a batarang into the bastard’s face the moment it comes into view.

“Does this have to do with that….akuma? I heard them say that a lot.” She said, trying to keep the ball rolling.

Marcel nodded. “Anyone is capable of becoming an akuma at anytime. An adult, a child, an elderly, heck even a baby.” His face darkened at that. “The time we actually saw a baby get akumatized…….” He shook his head. “We never thought anyone would stoop that low.”

Yup, Dahlia is going to wring this butterfly- or moth, whatever, she didn’t care- man’s neck.

Seriously, a _baby?!_ That’s the lowest of the low for any villain.

“How do you become an akuma?” she asked. ‘Why haven’t you become one?’ went unsaid…..because it’s never happened to him before…..right?

“When you feel a negative emotion. Sadness, frustration, anger, disappointment, hurt, jealousy, no matter how petty or how emotionally deep, sometimes all it takes is one bad day for it all to take a turn for the worse.” He said.

One bad day, one single moment of even one of those ugly emotions and the monster inside you becomes a reality. Literally.

“…..your classmates, they’ve…..” she had no love lost for any of those cattle but she wasn’t heartless.

“They’ve been akumatized. Some more than once.” He said.

Their orders arrived and Marcel dug into his cake. Dahlia however, took a single sip from her tea and ignored it afterwards in favor of mulling over her next move.

Dahlia swallowed and steeled herself for what she’s about to ask next and by the gods and Gotham forbid she crosses a line.

“Have you been akumatized before?” she bit the bullet.

At that, Marcel put his fork down.

“Me? No.” he replied and relief flooded her. “Not yet anyways.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, dread brewing.

“I’ve had a few close calls.” He admitted. “But I managed to stop them before they could get a hold on me.” He quickly added to reassure her.

“How?” she asked.

“I tell myself to calm down and as cheesy as it sounds, think positive thoughts. Really, if you can calm yourself down in time, the akuma will just flutter away and leave you alone.” He said.

“I see…….” She said. It…..made sense. It sounded simple at the same time tedious however. Probably something that required a good amount of emotional control and willpower.

If Marcel already had two of those, her father would most certainly approve.

“You must have quite the willpower to resist the control of a supervillain.” She remarked.

Marcel blushed. “I just try to see the brighter side of life. I mean, beats lingering on the darker side of things.”

A part of Dahlia envied and admired his positivity. But it was infectious in a way that she didn’t mind its presence.

“I wish I had your positivity.” She said.

He smiled at her, again with that same smile that made her heart beat faster and made those intimate but pure emotions skyrocket out of control. He reached over and placed his calloused hand over hers.

“You _are_ one of the positive aspects in my life. Not many can pull that off.” He said.

He’s an Angel. He’s an angel that’s come to collect her soul and whisk her away to Heaven and for once, that sounds like a pretty enticing experience.

And to think, a few days ago she would’ve claimed that she’d rather give an actual angel the middle finger than allow them to carry her away to Heaven against her will.

“Well well, look what the cat dragged in.” a voice purred beside them.

They both jolted at the sudden intervention. Turning around, they saw a voluptuous woman wearing cat eye sunglasses looking at them, clearly amused.

Dahlia recognized her instantly.

“Selina?” she asked, surprised. Last she heard, her….mother- considering she is engaged to her father now- was over at Jump City, tying up loose ends of an animal trafficking ring.

“Hi, kitten. I just came back an hour ago, actually.” She explained.

“Wait, Selina….Kyle, right?” Marcel said, recalling how Mylene once mentioned her as one of her personal heroes.

A staunch animal rights advocate, socialite and philanthropist, she’s a prominent figure in speaking against animal abuse and strongly supporting animal rescue, rehabilitation, shelters and preservation.

“Yes, pleasure to meet you.” She said. Then she glanced between the two of them and she smirked.

“Am I interrupting?” she asked.

“Uh…..” Marcel hesitated.

“I must say, Dahlia. I never knew you had a type.” Selina said. Might as well take this as a chance to twist the kitten’s tail a bit.

Dahlia blushed. After this encounter, Stephanie and Barbara are going to knock down a good chunk of her dignity.

“I have my expectations.” She said.

“Should I be worried?” Marcel asked, raising his eyebrows. “Oh, by the way, I’m Marcel, Marcel Dupain-Cheng.” He belatedly introduced, offering her a handshake.

“Pleasure to meet you, Marcel.” She said, shaking his hand. As she did, she noticed the rough calluses marring his hands, evidently signs of diligent labor.

“Would you like to join us?” he offered.

“A gentleman too! I like this one.” She said, winking at Dahlia.

Dahlia wished the floor would swallow her. Black cats truly are bad omens……

“Well, I won’t intrude any further. Have a nice day, sweeties. Ciao.” She said, blowing them a kiss before sauntering off, her hips swaying attractively like a model on a runway.

“……….you guys are acquainted?” Marcel asked.

“Yes. She’s worked with my father before.” Dahlia said and- oh no, what if this blows her cover and he finds out she’s a Wayne and he views her differently-

“Oh. Okay.” Was all he said before going back to his strawberry shortcake.

Phew, saved.

“So you’re into animal rights?” he asked.

She nodded. “I’m a vegetarian.” She said.

“Ah…..” Marcel said, filing that away.

For a while, they fell into a companionable silence. Marcel finished his cake while Dahlia sipped at her tea.

“….hey, Dahlia?” Marcel asked. Since they were discussing about heroes a few moments ago…….

“Hm?” she asked.

“You think you can tell me about Gotham’s guardians? The Bat Family?” he tried to ask as casually as possible.

“Oh, sure.” She said. ‘Careful now….’ She warned herself. Boyfriend or not, her secret identity was now on the line as were the ones of her entire family. This was a subject she absolutely cannot screw up; even the _tiniest_ slip-up is unacceptable.

“As you know, Batman has been around for some time now and personally, I for one hopes he stays around for the long times ahead.” She said.

“What’s your personal opinion on him?” he asked.

“…….to tell you the truth…..I accept him. It’s not mere hero worship, no, I _accept_ him as a human individual. He’s not just a caped crusader or a superhero gallivanting with a symbol on his chest.

“No, he’s more than that; he’s one man and he’s human like the rest of us. He may be in the grey area to some who view things in the aspects of ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ but that’s simply who he is and that isn’t something that can simply be tweaked and categorized.” She said.

It’s true. If there’s anything she’s learned these past few years under her father’s tutelage, it’s not heroes aren’t individuals to be admired, they were individuals to be _accepted_ in the eyes of society.

Admiration was shallow. Admiration was fickle. Admiration was petty.

But acceptance? All it takes is for one acceptance, just _one_ from someone, to be the one push a hero needs to get back up and fight another day. That same acceptance is what kept her father going.

It’s what kept the rest of her family, including herself going.

“Batman is the one who started it all, right? He’s the one who leads them all, teaches them.” Marcel asked.

“….let’s just say, I can’t picture a Gotham without a Batman. Not anymore.” She said.

Actually….she can’t picture a _world_ without her father in it.

Marcel hummed, his finger tapping against the table, eyes distant as he mulled over Dahlia’s words. The respect in her voice was evident and from what he’s seen, respect wasn’t something Dahlia would bestow to simply anyone.

“Batman’s one of the original members of the Justice League, right? The first founders?” he asked.

Dahlia nodded.

“…..I think I get it now.” He said.

Dahlia raised a brow, silently inquiring him to emphasize his point.

“Think about it- Superman, the Man of Steel; Wonder Woman, the Amazon Warrior Princess; Green Lantern, the Emerald Crusader; the Flash, the Fastest Man Alive, all of them with superpowers and then….we have Batman, the Dark Knight who like you said, is human.

“One good punch from Superman or Wonder Woman can break his bones, the Flash can run circles around him to deprive him of the same oxygen we all breathe and Green Lantern can construct any weapon he wanted to finish him yet, despite it all, he stands beside them as an _equal_. No more, no less.

“It’s just….having someone like that, someone who can get beaten and broken just like the rest of us is just…..comforting in its own way. It shows us that even amongst all the superpowers and aliens, us humans can stand on the same level as them. We can be just as strong as them, just as capable and even though he’s called the _‘Dark’_ Knight, he’s also kinda like a beacon of hope.” He said.

Dahlia blinked, taken aback by his earnest words. They weren’t empty honeyed words, they were filled with the depth of perspective an individual can give out personally once they’ve allowed their thoughts to take place.

“I couldn’t have said it better myself.” She said with a smile.

It was good to know that even those outside of Gotham were willing to look at her father in such a light.

Suddenly, Marcel’s phone rang. He answered and even before he placed it next to his ear, Chris’s voice boomed back loudly.

“MARCEL, GET YOUR BUTT BACK HERE THIS INSTANT! LIE-LA IS BULLSHITTING US TO LEAVE YOU BEHIND AND I CAN’T STALL MUCH LONGER AND- HEY! Hold up, he isn’t back yet- what the hell are you doing, I said wait goddamn you-!”

Then the line ended.

Marcel was already on his feet.

He hastily slammed a few dollar bills down, some coins dropping down too but he couldn’t care less about that.

“Keep the change!” he shouted back before he was already out the door, Dahlia swiftly on his heels.

“Come on, this is a shortcut!” she said, grabbing his hand and guiding him through the throngs of people, snaking through the occasional alleyway to bypass the crowds and bumping into the occasional someone who got in their way.

Marcel arrived back in time to see the bus drive off.

“No-nononono- HEY! WAIT! HEY!” he called, waving his hand as though that might get the driver’s attention. “Hey…wait……..” his voice trailed off and his shoulders slumped as the bus faded off in the distance.

“…sure, wait for me, why don’t you?” he muttered bitterly.

“Ignorant untrustworthy buffoons.” Dahlia spat under her breath.

Forget the liar, she’s going to gouge out the eyes of the sheep Marcel calls his teacher. Not like it would be that big a loss anyways considering how blind the incompetent educator was already.

“Why am I still surprised?” Marcel mumbled bitterly in French.

On the bright side, at least they left him in the daytime this time……lucky him.

“I can drop you off at your hotel.” Dahlia offered.

Marcel shook his head. “No, no, don’t let me bother you any further. I’ll just go catch a public bus.” He said.

Dahlia frowned, her mouth set into a thin line. Curse that harlot for robbing Marcel of his happiness.

Marcel’s phone vibrated with a message. He took it out and saw Chris spamming him like a madman.

[Chat name: Bros Bee-fore Foes]

King Bitch: Marcel if u don’t text back in a min istg I will hijack this bus to come save your ass

King Bitch: Laws will be broken. And maybe a few bones

King Bitch: And I _DO NOT_ want to stoop to Kubdel’s level

Not wanting to test Chris’s patience, he quickly texted back.

Ladyboi: I’m here. Pls don’t

Ladyboi: Btw, Dahlia is with me too.

King Bitch: Oh thank god.

Ladyboi: Where u all going 2 rn?

King Bitch: Gotham Park. Meet us there if u can?

Ladyboi: Kk. Take care

King Bitch: That’s my line. Rn we r in traffic so u should be able to make it if u know ur way.

King Bitch: Or if u r lucky….which is a ridiculous question. Utterly ridiculous.

“I can drop you there.” He yelped and turned around to see Dahlia’s face beside his, so close he could feel her hair tickle his face.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to intrude. But I saw your friend mention Gotham Park. I can drop you there.” Marcel opened his mouth to decline and insist he simply take public transport but Dahlia beat him to it.

“I know my way around the streets like the back of my hand.” Mostly from car chases and motorbike chases as Robin but he didn’t need to know that. “I can get you there ahead of time.”

“……well, if you insist then how can I refuse?” he relented.

“Good. Now, time is of the essence.” She grabbed his arm and dragged him towards a car park.

Marcel’s jaw dropped when he saw the sleek Porsche parked there. First an Aston Martin, now a Porsche?! Man….Dahlia must be pretty damn loaded.

Dahlia tried not to smirk when she saw Marcel’s slack-jawed expression. She flicked out a pair of sunglasses and put them on.

“Shall we?” she asked.

Marcel nodded and opened the door for her- gentleman even when in shock- before clicking on his seatbelt.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Marcel once again buried his nose into his sketchbook as he sketched away, Dahlia contentedly watching him work as she lazily lounged on the bench beside him.

Thanks to Dahlia’s shortcuts and her faster sleeker mode of transportation, they arrived at Gotham Park long before the rest of his class could.

Marcel and Dahlia had strolled around a bit before he decided that they should find a spot to wait for his class, least they miss him…..again.

Thus, they selected to sit on the bench and wait but Dahlia made sure to pick a bench that had a flower bed nearby- a contribution courtesy of Poison Ivy believe it or not.

So of course Marcel hadn’t wasted time whipping out his sketchbook the moment he saw the blooming masterpieces of nature.

“Those were contributed by Poison Ivy, believe it or not.” Dahlia said.

“No wonder they’re so beautiful.” He said.

Dahlia’s eyebrows went up fractionally. That’s not a reaction you get out of someone when told information like that. Then again, Marcel wasn’t a mere _someone._

“I mean, she’s a tree hugger, right?” he asked, gesturing with his pencil.

“That’s….a mild way to put it but yes.” Dahlia said.

Eco-terrorist was more accurate but the protector of Mother Nature hasn’t really done anything extreme in a while so she’ll let it slide.

“Okay, maybe she can go a bit overkill but last I heard, isn’t she’s more on the anti-hero side?” he asked.

Dahlia hummed. “I suppose.”

Come to think of it, hadn’t there been rumors that she and Harley had been going around the shabbier parts of Gotham, helping out in their own way? Actually, thanks to them, they’ve managed to catch a good few criminals who were on their list for domestic and sexual abuse. And they did Good Samaritan deeds by helping out the homeless.

“Poison Ivy’s turned over a new leaf so who am I to judge her contributions?” Marcel said before going back to sketching.

This boy really just keeps intriguing her.

“You know, daisies symbolize innocence and purity.” He said. “It’s….kinda symbolic.”

“How so?” she asked.

“Well…..in a way, it’s also kinda sad since it’s ironic.” He said, standing up and walking over to the flowers, crouching down to get a closer look at their delicate white petals. “Poison Ivy and Harley are anything but innocent or pure anymore but….they’re trying, you know? They’re trying to start over and help others. Sometimes a crop starts with one seed.”

Dahlia looked down, ready to response-

Then she saw it.

One of the daisies- drooped down as though dejectedly slouching, its petals a brownish tinge- slowly rose up, like a dejected spirit finally regaining its fire and straightening itself. The brownish tinge disappeared and its petals were once again a pure white.

Dahlia blinked, wondering if the flowers were releasing a sort of pollen to cause hallucinations.

Did that flower just….grow back? Was it because it was created by Poison Ivy? But her father’s checked- Tim’s quadruple-checked even- and concluded that these daisies will eventually grow and wilt just like any other normal flower.

So how did that daisy-

Wait……

Her eyes trailed down and she saw Marcel’s hand planted near the previously wilting flower. He had placed his hand there most likely to balance himself and make sure he doesn’t fall over but it was too much of a coincidence to look over.

Could…..could Marcel have been the one to heal the flower? Make it prosper once more?

Was he a metahuman?

“Dahlia?” Marcel asked, rising up to his feet.

“Nothing.” She quickly blurted, shaking her head. “Sorry, just got lost in thought.”

“Never took you for the type to zone out. You always seem so…focused. Like a sharp straight blade.” He said.

“One must be willing to bend lest they break.” She flippantly said.

She looked over his face and saw that it was open and honest as ever, no secrecy or deception. Did he….not know what he just did? Was he unaware of his potential metahuman abilities? How long has he been able to do this?

Or was she just overthinking?

Crap, she’s losing her touch. That is unacceptable.

Fortunately at the same time, unfortunately, the bus carrying the cattle Marcel is forced to call his class arrives.

“Oh! Marcel!” Mme. Bustier said, giving a double take when she saw him there before them. “There you are. How’d you get here?”

“Found my own form of transportation.” He said, tone noticeably clipped.

“Please, Marcel. Don’t keep doing this. We’re really worried for you.” Dahlia scoffed. Yeah right, yes they were so very concerned for the student they have left alone in Gotham not once but _twice_ now.

“Forgive me Mme. Bustier but I am not a psychic. I didn’t know we would be leaving ahead of time.” Marcel said, trying to keep his voice reasonable least he lose his temper and have Mme. Bustier give him another lecture that made him want to do things Tikki would not approve.

“But-didn’t Lila or Alya notify you beforehand?” Mme. Bustier asked.

Marcel glanced over and merely saw Alya and Lila both give him vindictive smirks.

“No, they did not.” He gritted out.

“Well, I’m sure it was just a small mishap. Maybe your phone was off or the reception wasn’t all that strong. Perhaps you should get a new phone?” Mme. Bustier fumbled.

“Tt.” Dahlia clicked, stepping forward to make her presence known. “As a student myself, I must say you are one of the worst representation of educators I have ever witnessed.”

“Wha-excuse me?!” Mme. Bustier gaped at the stranger who suddenly butted into their conversation. She definitely wasn’t someone she knew- a Gothamite perhaps? One that can speak fluent French no less.

“Stop prattling on about such pathetic excuses and just apologize. Might I remind you that as their teacher and chaperone for this trip, _you_ should be the one to notify any and all students of any sudden changes. To push them onto someone else and to not even check to see if they did their job is laziness and irresponsibility; I daresay its negligence. Some educator you are.” Dahlia sniffed, staring down her nose at the Parisian teacher.

“Young lady, I don’t know who you are but-”

“I’m the one who you should be thanking because if it were not for my presence, your student would be left lost and alone in Gotham, one of the most dangerous cities where crime is as rampant as fleas on a stray dog. You claim to worry for him yet you’ve already failed him twice.

“There’s a difference between worry and concern. From what I’ve seen, I doubt you have either.” Dahlia said.

“Dahlia….” Marcel said, voice low so only she could hear. “Stop it, please. I can handle this.”

“Sorry Marcel, but I refuse to let someone who is unworthy of your effort trample over you.” She told him curtly, her voice leaving no room for argument.

“Hey! You’re that bitch from Wayne Industries!” Alya pointed out.

“Are you….stalking us?” Lila asked, eyes narrowed suspiciously. Then she released a dramatically loud gasp. “Are you stalking Marcel?”

Instantly, murmurs and whispers went through the students, all of them glancing at Dahlia and Marcel pointedly, shooting them suspicious and dirty looks.

“She’s a local we befriended you dimwits.” Chris sneered. “Not that any of you would notice considering how dense you all are.” He added haughtily.

“Yeah, she just so happened to be at the same time and place as us.” Sabrina chimed in.

“And isn’t it a good thing since she was there to help Marcel? What, would you guys rather we ditch him in Gotham to get mugged?” Alix chimed in.

“Not like he doesn’t deserve it.” Alya muttered but Dahlia heard it and had to resist the urge to punch the girl’s face and bury the shard of her glasses into her tongue.

How dare she-

Marcel clapped his hands, gaining everyone’s attention.

“Look, I’m here now, we’re here now and Gotham Park’s all around us. How about we get on with this while the day’s still young? And besides, we should enjoy ourselves before one of Lila’s…..issues act up again, don’t you think?” he said with an evidently forced smile.

“Why, thank you Marcel! I knew you cared!” the harlot said with a sickly sweet smile, batting her eyelashes at Marcel and god, Dahlia wished she had brought one of Jason’s brass knuckles.

For once, she wouldn’t mind using such brutish bulky weapons to punch someone’s face.

“Thanks…..again.” Marcel said to her. “You didn’t have to do that…..actually…” he frowned. “You shouldn’t have.”

“Excuse me?” she asked, shocked.

Marcel sighed and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his Robin hoodie, sadly gazing at the daisies he was admiring moments ago.

“Dahlia, I appreciate you supporting me but….it doesn’t work like that. Mme. Bustier will probably pull me away later and give another one of her speeches, graciously reminding me of my responsibilities, all the duties I must commit myself to as class representative, the role model student, her _‘star pupil’_.” He practically spat the last part with no small amount of venom.

Dahlia’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t like his teacher before but now…..now her ire for her may be warranted. Clearly there was not only negligence but biased favoritism and perhaps even manipulation in play.

“I’ve tried, Dahlia. But like she says, we as students, as a class must learn to forgive one another! To be unwilling to allow ourselves to get angry at them and let ourselves have such ugly emotions! If we forgive those who wronged us, they’ll see the errors of their ways and we can teach them how to be such good kind people too! That’s why Marcel’s like me are so important to the world because we have oh so much love to hand out freely and make the world a happy place where we can all walk off with smiles on our faces and a rainbow in the sky!” he added, sarcasm oozing from every sentence with faux cheerfulness that did little to hide the bitterness he felt.

“That’s wrong, Marcel. _She’s_ wrong.” Dahlia hissed. “How can your school-”

“Forget it, Dahlia.” He sighed. “Sides, just one more year and I’ll be leaving that hellhole behind. I don’t want to dwell on that when I can actually put my commitment onto much better things.” Then he smiled. “Like the here and now with the people I’m already with.”

He was trying to divert, to change the subject as sincere as his words were. Nonetheless, Dahlia decided to drop it….for now that is.

This is one discussion she is certainly going to continue with her father.

A toxic learning environment with an incompetent teacher and a potentially corrupt school board is a walking disaster in a place like Paris where emotions are ticking time bombs.

“Come on, let’s check out the pond.” He said, nudging towards said pond.

“Let’s.” she agreed with a small smile.

He smiled back and at that moment, she decided that Marcel was right about one thing, they should focus their efforts on cherishing the now where things are better, happier.

And when she stood beside, contentedly enjoying the company they both gave and the smiles they spread as they fed the ducks, she managed to ignore the stone in her stomach.

The stone that grew heavier as her time with Marcel as Dahlia came to a close.

* * *

“Man, I’m pooped.” Chris groaned, collapsing into the couch.

“Yeah- wait, why are you in my room?” Marcel asked.

“What? Can’t hang with my bro? It’s not easy when you’ve got Dahlia with you. Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy for you and I like that chick- she’s got bite- but I do not want to be some third wheel.” He pointed out.

“Don’t worry, Chris. You know I wouldn’t leave you.” Marcel said, flopping down beside him and slinging an arm across his shoulders.

“You would have to be ridiculous, utterly ridiculous to even contemplate doing something like that.” Chris agreed.

Marcel gave his best friend a smile before getting up. Walking past the table, he noticed one of the petals of the rose in the flower vase was wilting and two leaves were already brown.

He reached out and sure enough, he saw the leaves turn into a vibrant green while the petal once again regained its radiance.

“Show off.” Chris huffed.

Marcel just grinned.

Another side effect of the miraculous that’s becoming more prominent lately. He’s noticed that overtime, any plant he’s taken under his care never seems to wilt and sometimes, budding flowers seem to bloom prosperously ahead of time. It wasn’t until he noticed a near-wilting plant grow back healthily when he was touching it that he realized he had more than just a green thumb.

Heck, sometimes he can’t help but feel a radiant energy of sorts coursing through him whenever he’s surrounded by plants.

Tikki said that this was good. It was okay. In fact, it’s become stronger to the point that his mere presence when close to a plant affects it. In terms of already wilted plants however he needs to be in some form of physical contact.

“I’m surprised you can’t do it yet.” Marcel said.

According to Tikki and Pollen, the side effects their wielders would attain are quite similar. So far, the only similar side effect Marcel and Chris have are their sensitivity towards cold.

“I’m working on it.” Chris said. “Though I have noticed something else.”

“What is it?” Marcel asked, worried but serious.

Chris shrugged. “I dunno I just…feel this…addiction? Attraction? Towards flowers lately. Like, I want to be around them and have them around me, y’know?” he got up and picked one of the roses out from the vase, twirling it between his fingers. “Pollen said it’s one of the side effects.”

“Oh.” Marcel said.

“Yeah. Kinda made it a habit to carry those flower scented oils now that I think about it. Didn’t really know why until now.” He said.

“That explains it.” Marcel agreed.

“Anyways, enough about us. So, what happened with you and Dahlia?” he asked, wriggling his eyebrows.

Marcel blushed. “We just went to a café.”

“Yeah and then she dropped you off at the park. Pretty sure you and her got some alone time before we dropped in.” Chris said.

“We just talked and I sketched a bit.” Marcel huffed.

“Still though, girl’s gained my respect.” Chris said rather seriously. “She’s not afraid to spit back at others bullshit.”

“Yeah……” Marcel said, a small smile playing on his lips when he recalled the numerous times she’s stood up and supported him in the short time they’ve been together. “She’s actually got my back, unlike…..”

At the thought of his ex-crush, his mood soured. Try as he might, the tension was seriously suffocating.

“Hey hey hey, don’t.” Chris said. “Don’t let her reverse psychology pressure you into crawling back to her, that’s admitting defeat.”

“I never said I was going to do that.” Marcel huffed defensively. “Sides, I’ve got Dahlia now. She’s right- Adrianne was the one who hurt me. I’m under no obligation to apologize for anything.”

The blonde nodded in satisfaction. “Good, otherwise I would’ve asked Pollen to sting you in your sleep to numb your idiocy.”

“What? She wouldn’t.” Marcel said, eye narrowing mock seriously.

“Apologies, Marcel but I’m afraid I would.” Chris’s kwami said. “Please understand it’s for your own good.”

“Ok, that betrayal stung even more.” Marcel said. Then he decided to get down to business.

“Anyways, I need you to be ready tonight.” He told Chris.

Chris dropped the light-hearted attitude and got serious himself.

“What’s the game plan?” Tikki and Kaalki flew closer to hear in on it.

“I’m going to talk to them, give them the intel they need like I promised. But I will not tell them about the Order of the Guardians. Master Fu? Maybe. But I’m not willing to show that card yet.” Then he took out a USB with a small ladybug logo on it.

“What’s that?” Chris asked.

“A USB filled with files on every akuma and sentimonster we’ve fought, starting from Stoneheart.” He said.

“Wait, did you list down…..?” Chris asked.

Marcel nodded. “All our classmates, every citizen, every akumatization and their forms, I’ve listed them all……..including yours.” At that his face turned guilty and apologetic. “I’m sorry, Chris but I-”

“Don’t.” Chris said firmly. “You did the right thing.” He told him sincerely. “And besides, it might help get the Bats off my back.”

Marcel nodded, a weight leaving him when he saw Chris bore no ill will towards him.

“I know this is an invasion of privacy but…..these are cards we have to show if we want to win this game. It’s a gamble I’m willing to take. I even added reports on the bigger scaled attacks like the one on Heroes Day.” He said.

Chris nodded. “So what’s my role in all this?” he asked.

“Chances are, they’ll probably want to take me somewhere else to talk. If that happens, I need you to cover for me. We can’t keep relying on Sabrina to do that if we don’t want them to start getting suspicious.

“If I’m not back by 4 AM, you can come looking for me as long as you have an excuse ready for both of us if we can’t make it back in time. Until then, I also want you to go on a quick recon on Gotham. Places to hide and transform in, shortcuts, places to avoid, etc.” Marcel relayed.

Chris nodded. “Alibis, recon and backup. Got it.” He said.

Marcel nodded and got up.

“I’m gonna go get ready.” He said.

“….hey Mar?” Chris called.

“Yeah?”

“Be careful.” His blonde friend told him, blue eyes shining with worry. “Just….know you’re not alone in this, ok?”

Marcel smiled.

“I know.” He said.

That did little to worry Chris but all he could do was trust Marcel. And pray to every kwami, deity and god that luck truly is on their side.

* * *

“Father, I must speak to you about a matter of urgency.” Dahlia said, walking into his office, back straight and voice no-nonsense.

Bruce raised an eyebrow but set down the paperwork he was doing to give her his attention.

“It’s related to our current miraculous case….in a manner of speaking.” She said.

That definitely got his attention.

“Today, I went to the flea market where Marcel and his class coincidentally were at as well.” She said.

“Yes, Selina’s told me about that. She bumped into you and Marcel at a café.” He said.

Dahlia nodded. “Yes and I took that as an opportunity to gain more intel on Paris’s heroes and villains as a civilian. By the way, Marcel seems to respect your alter ego and holds him in high regard.” She couldn’t help but add.

“Flattered.” He said. “Continue.”

And so she did. She told him every piece of information Marcel told her, hoping it might help them connect the dots. The heroes- both active, retired and temporary as well as how Hawkmoth was willing to stoop as low as to manipulating the emotions of a baby.

Her father’s face darkened into a look that haunts every criminal’s nightmares.

Then she decided to move on to address the more….personal matter.

“Marcel’s school, Collège Françoise Dupont must be investigated, father.” She said.

“Why’s that?” he asked. Though if what Dick’s recount of the class was anything to go by, he already had his suspicions.

“From what I’ve seen, as brief as it was, it’s fairly obvious that his so-called homeroom teacher who may I remind you is also their chaperon for this trip is the very definition of incompetent. And that’s saying something considering the numerous buffoons I am affiliated with.

“She is irresponsible, ignorant, naïve, lazy and outright negligent. She refuses to take responsibility, much less action and deludes herself into believing she is not at fault for any mishaps they face when it is clear she has played a part in it. I am disgusted that Marcel’s school board actually approves of her position.” She scowled at that.

“Before you say I am being overdramatic because of my love for Marcel, allow me to emphasize. She has left Marcel not once but _twice_ already, father. She left him to fend for himself in Gotham of all places. It’s as though the concept of a headcount is a foreign method to her peanut-sized brain.” She added.

At that, Bruce frowned. No teacher, tourist or not, should ever leave any student, no matter how old or how capable, unsupervised in Gotham. Anyone and everyone who steps foot in this city should know better.

Dahlia went on.

“And that woman had the audacity to say Marcel is the one at fault! She entrusted two students to do her job for her and couldn’t even bother to check if they did the job at all- which they didn’t by the way. What’s worse is that according to Marcel, she’s been doing this for years.

“For years, she’s been pushing all her responsibilities and obligated duties onto Marcel, a student. For years, she has pressured him into being her perfect little ‘star pupil’, the one to bend over backwards for all those ungrateful nitwits and virtually be their scapegoat, their doormat.

“In a place where emotions are a ticking time bomb, do you really think that amount of stress and pressure is positive, father?” she said.

“…..this teacher, Mme. Bustier, you suspect she’s an enabler of a toxic environment.” It was a statement.

“I’m quite confident that she _is_ an enabler and whether she knows it or not, emotionally manipulative.” She said.

“And the principle?” Bruce asked.

“Wouldn’t be surprised if he’s a broken weed too.” Dahlia said.

“I understand our main priority is to defeat Hawkmoth and discover more info on the miraculous, father but I speak for Marcel and perhaps a few other Parisians when I say a toxic environment like that shouldn’t exist in a place like Paris. In fact, it shouldn’t exist in any country at all.” She added.

Bruce, surprisingly nodded almost instantly.

“From what you’ve told me, akumas are caused by negative emotions. A toxic environment like that is bound to attract them like a moth to flame, pun not intended.” He said.

“So you’ll investigate?” she asked.

He nodded. “I’ll make time for it.” He promised.

“Thank you, father.” She said.

“No thanks needed.” He glanced at the time. “It’s almost time for dinner. Eat up and get ready, we leave at midnight.”

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Robin swung back the familiar route towards Marcel’s hotel. Landing on the window, she noted that the light was still on and the curtains parted slightly, allowing her a view of inside.

She peeked in and saw Marcel bundled up on the couch, taking a nap. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, his face peaceful and his hair tousled in a bedhead way that somehow made him look adorable but gorgeous.

She knocked on the window and the sound woke him up. He blinked, a bit dazed before situational awareness kicked in.

He opened up the window and greeted her with a smile.

“You’re my escort, I take it?” he said.

She nodded. “Shall we?” she asked, offering him her hand.

“Lemme go grab my jacket.” He said.

“Turn off the lights and lock your doors too.” She reminded him.

He nodded and did as such. He put on his Robin hoodie- her heart fluttered at that- and checked to make sure the USB was in there.

“Hope you don’t mind.” He said, gesturing to his hoodie.

“No, it suits you. I’m quite flattered.” She said.

Grabbing hold of him, they grappled off. Marcel took this chance to once again admire Gotham City’s beauty from this perspective.

Corrupted it might be but beautiful it also was.

Finally, they landed on a rooftop where Batman and the rest of his family/ team seemingly emerge from the shadows like wraiths.

“Marcel Dupain-Cheng?” Batman asked.

“That’s me.” He said with a nod.

“OMG, he’s adorable.” Red Hood snickered to Red Robin. “I mean, look at his hoodie. Didn’t know Rob had a fanboy.”

“Quiet, Hood. This is serious.” His younger brother scolded though he couldn’t deny that he was right.

“Red Beetle already filled me in on what you all want to know.” He took out the USB. “This will have the intel you need on every akuma and sentimonster the heroes have faced.”

Batman accepted it wordlessly and placed it in his utility belt.

“Sorry Red Beetle himself couldn’t come. I’ll try to explain everything as best as I can.” He said.

“Start from the beginning.” Batman said.

“Okay….” Marcel said. Man, this was going to be a long night. He took a deep breath and steeled himself for this.

“It started three years ago. When Hawkmoth first showed up, the first person he akumatized was a classmate of mine, Ivan. It turned him into Stoneheart- a giant rock monster that could probably give Grundy a run for his money. That was the first akuma.” He said.

“Red Beetle mentioned the cause of akumas are negative emotions. Is there a specific level of emotion one must feel? Is there a limited range?” Batman asked.

“It doesn’t matter; as long as it’s negative, the akuma comes. Doesn’t matter if you’re at school, at home, at a public area or even the bathroom inside a building, the akuma _will_ come and it _will_ find you unless you calm down.

“Emotional depth wise, it can be as petty as failing a test or getting embarrassed in front of your peers to more….serious issues like betrayal or losing a loved one….or heartbreak.

“The akuma will land on an object of sorts- like an accessory or something you’re holding like a pencil- and possess it. Once that happens, Hawkmoth’s influence enters your mind and that’s one step away from becoming an akuma. Keep in mind that the same person can get akumatized _multiple_ times and sometimes they could gain different forms and abilities.” He said.

“That’s where Red Beetle comes in.” Nightwing said.

Marcel nodded. “Red Beetle is the only one who can purify an akuma. He also has this special ability called Lucky Charm that allows him to summon an object that helps him defeat the akuma. Chat Noir was the second first hero to appear. She has the power to destroy anything she touches.”

“Anything?” Red Robin asked.

“Anything.” Marcel repeated.

“Well that’s OP.” Red Hood said.

“Red Beetle is also the only one who can cast the Miraculous Cure and fix all the damage done by the akuma.” He went on.

“I understand this next person might hit close to home, but tell us the truth- does Miraculous Cure also work on casualties?” Batman asked.

“….yes.” he said. “It works on casualties too. Injuries and even deaths.” He confirmed.

Behind Batman, a few of the Bat members sucked in a deep breath. That question hit home for a good few of them who’ve had a brush with death….especially those that came _back_ from it.

“So that’s how they can cover it up so easily.” Batgirl said.

Red Robin nodded. “Without collateral damage, there’s no need to pour money into hiring workers to clean up after the heroes, leaving no proof at all.”

“Yeah. Plus, the mayor probably doesn’t want to scare off the rest of the world. Wouldn’t be good for the economy and all that if tourists stopped showing up.” Marcel mused. “Wouldn’t be surprised if he’s the one who’s stopping the news from spreading of his own free will.”

“It’s not just Hawkmoth though, is it? There’s also the sentimonsters and from what we’ve heard, Hawkmoth has a partner.” Batman said.

Marcel nodded. “Mayura. She’s like Hawkmoth. She also uses negative emotions but the difference is, she doesn’t directly possess a human and give them powers. She just takes their emotions to mold it into a physical being- a sentimonster that she can control.” He explained.

“Red Beetle has partners to help him deal with this, right?” Nightwing asked.

“Yeah. At first there was Chat Noir, she was his first and main partner but….recently, she’s been….slacking off. She’s absent from most of the fights nowadays. At some point he also had Rena Rogue, Carapace and King Wasp but they retired, especially King Wasp since his secret identity was compromised.

“Nowadays it’s mainly Red Beetle along with Suzaku, Viperion and Amber Ruche whom Red Beetle told me you’ve also met already. There’s also Good Girl but she only occasionally shows up to help. There’s some other heroes but those were only one-time appearances.” He said.

Batman already knew all this courtesy of Dahlia. Nonetheless, it wouldn’t hurt to hear it one more time for solid confirmation himself.

“What’s Hawkmoth’s goal? What’s his endgame?” Batman asked.

“He wants Red Beetle and Chat Noir’s miraculous. Miraculous is what grants them their powers; Red Beetle’s is Luck and Creation whereas Chat Noir’s is Chaos and Destruction. The two of those miraculous combined can grant the user a wish.” He said.

“A wish?” Robin asked. “As in, the user can literally ask for anything and reality itself will warp to suit their desire?” she’s hung out with Raven enough to know a thing or two.

Marcel grimly nodded.

“I take it the villains also gain their powers from the same source?” Batman said.

“Yup, Hawkmoth’s is the Butterfly Miraculous-” Jason couldn’t but snort cuz come on, a butterfly? He couldn’t help but find that pretty dumb despite the direness of it all. “Mayura’s is the peacock.” He knew those pretty birds were secretly evil. Kung Fu Panda 2 was right.

“Why does Red Beetle need our help? From what we’ve managed to gather, he seems to be handling the situation well enough.” Batman asked.

None of the Bats were fooled. They knew Batman was testing Marcel, trying to unravel the layers to see the bigger picture. Batman would still help regardless but he’ll still do what he can to keep two steps ahead himself.

“Because he doesn’t want this to keep going on much longer.” At that, he suddenly seemed tired but jaded, the look of a worn soldier who just wanted all the violence to end.

“We’re sick and tired of it all, Batman. Everyone in Paris wants it all to stop- do you know what it’s like to wake up every day and know that all your emotions, a part of your sentience to being a human, is held against you? That the slightest moment you selfishly let yourself or others feel something negative, just one bad day and it’ll all go to hell? Having to look over your shoulder in case a frickin _butterfly_ of all things come flying towards you? Having to suppress your emotions because if you don’t, thousands might get hurt or killed?” he asked.

“The police can’t be trusted. If the mayor is potentially involved, what’s stopping them from being corrupt too? What if they interfere the investigation or worse, they’re a mole for Hawkmoth? Red Beetle has managed to make a few deductions and plausible theories but he’s nowhere adept enough to do this alone.

“That’s why he’s here. That’s why I’m here. To find you, the World’s Greatest Detective because if there’s anyone who can help unmask Hawkmoth and bring him down, it’s you.” Once he finished he took another deep breath and decided to finally swallow down the last bitter pill.

“People have _died_. Some of them have _died_ god knows how many times already. And all of them came back. They don’t even _remember_ dying, thinking they just passed out or got mind controlled. Some people had to _watch_ others die only for them to come back with no recollection that moments ago, they were gone.” He said, voice barely above a whisper.

But Batman heard it all, and each word sent an arrow of dread through his heart.

“What if the cure stops working one day? What if the effects start wearing off and people start to remember? Do you think anyone deserves that kind of scar?” Marcel asked.

Red Hood and Robin winced, the point hitting close to home. Both of them knew full well what it was like to carry the weight of memories stemming from death and resurrection.

“Hawkmoth is willing to stoop this low already, all for some stupid wish. I think I speak for everyone when I say I don’t wanna know what he’s gonna wish for.” Marcel said.

The Bat Family stood there, allowing his words to sink in. Their ignorance for the last three years hit them all full force as they realized just how much had been on the line this whole time they were none the wiser.

“Great, reality warping….fan-fu$king-tastic.” Red Hood hissed.

“This is huge. We could be looking at another world-ending event here. I mean, something that big has to have a catch.” Batgirl said.

“It does have a catch. Ever heard of equivalent exchange?” Marcel asked.

“Of course, in order to gain something, you must give something first.” Red Hood said. “What? I know a thing or two about alchemy.” He said, sounding a bit offended when they gave him surprised looks.

“Basically the same principle applies. Again, reality-warping and consequences we’d rather avoid.” He said.

“There’s something you’re still not telling us.” Batman said, taking a step forward to address the other elephant in the room….or on the roof in their case.

“What do you mean? I’ve already told you everything.” Marcel asked, trying to not panic as Batman loomed over him and wow, he was terrifying up close.

“Why has Red Beetle dragged you, an average teenage civilian into something this big? What connection could you possibly have for him to pick you out of all the people in Paris?” he asked.

Well, _merde._

He could feel his heart beat so fast, his ribcage was full out _rattling,_ his tongue tied and his throat turned so dry it _burned._

He can’t lie. Chris has made it quite clear numerous times that he’s a terrible liar. And this is _Batman_ for Christ’s sake, he’ll see through him in an instant!

But if he told them the truth, all of this would go to hell. The mission will be compromised, he’ll be compromised, _they’ll_ be compromised, _Paris_ will be compromised and he won’t be back to square one, no, he’ll have to start all over from scratch!

“I know him.” He blurted out. “As in, I know who he is behind the mask.” Half-truth.

“You know his secret identity?” Robin asked.

Marcel shrugged apathetically. “Whether I know it or not doesn’t concern you. This is something I won’t tell to anyone and you can’t force me to otherwise. This is his secret to keep and his to tell if he wants to.” He told them, voice firm.

“Look, if his identity gets out to anyone, Hawkmoth could akumatize them, enter their mind and look for the answer himself. If that happens, Red Beetle’s compromised and Parisians are as good as dead.” He added.

“What about you? What if you get akumatized? Doesn’t that put you at risk as well?” Robin asked.

Even though Marcel told her he hasn’t gotten akumatized yet, well…..luck isn’t an aspect to be trusted, much less pushed.

“I have my ways.” Was all he said.

“Hawkmoth might find a way to get to you anyways and it doesn’t necessarily have to be through akumatization.” Batman pointed out.

“I can handle myself. No offence but I’ve managed for three years already and I’m not even old enough to drink yet.” He pointed out.

“Do you know the identities of the other heroes? Active, temporary and retired?” Batman asked.

“That’s one card I can’t show either, sorry.” Marcel said. “What I can tell you is that Red Beetle and I have a main lead on Hawkmoth’s identity.”

“Who is it?” Batman asked.

“Gabriel Agreste.” He said.

“Head of the Agreste Brand. Fashion designer mainly stationed in Paris.” Batman recalled a brief glimpse of the man as Bruce Wayne but other than that, they’ve never interacted before.

“Why him?” Batgirl asked.

“Years ago, I came across a book that belonged to him. A book about the miraculous and their powers, even the past wielders. His daughter found it and snuck it out of the house before another classmate stole it and threw it into a trash can to hide the evidence.

“I didn’t really make the connection at first. I mean, the guy even got akumatized over the whole debacle and I assumed Hawkmoth shouldn’t be able to akumatize himself but….that was probably false hopeful thinking on my part. And when I thought about it, wouldn’t victimizing yourself be the perfect way to cover up your tracks?” he explained.

They all hummed or grunted in agreement.

“Besides, he’s a reclusive man as it is. Not to mention he has the money, influence and resources to bribe the police like I said. Plus, he’s a friend of the mayor’s too. And he probably has a motive to why he’s doing this- his wife passed away a few years ago, he probably wants to bring her back. But bringing the dead back to life? You really want to know how that could massively backfire in god knows how many ways?” Marcel added.

The Lazarus Pit came to mind. Not in a good way.

“As noble and caring as it is to want his family to be whole, he’s gone too far. And he’s a fool if he thinks he can just bring his wife back and not expect there to be any consequences. Remember the equivalent exchange? What’s stopping the wish from taking away the life of his daughter in exchange for his wife?”

It was _harsh_ , cold hard mercilessly harsh, and years ago, Marcel would’ve never even thought Adrianne-or anyone really- would be cursed to such a cruel fate but things have changed.

This was _reality_. These were the stakes.

The black studs in his ears suddenly felt heavier and Tikki’s pat of comfort did little to soothe him.

“And there’s…..something else…..” he swallowed and god, this pill was bitter and too big for his throat and too heavy for him. Should he…should he tell them? Or was he hesitating because deep down, he still wanted to foolishly believe that there’s good in her.

Batman said nothing. The Dark Knight could see the boy having some internal conflict within him. He’s seen it on himself and the rest of his family numerous times.

“I know who Chat Noir is.” He had to do this. He can’t be biased with anyone, friend or not…..crush or not. And once he said that, he couldn’t stop.

“I know I said I wouldn’t tell you but she’s an exception. Red Beetle and I have given her chances but she’s been showing up less frequently to akuma attacks to the point she isn’t showing up at all. She keeps giving us reasons- excuses, really, she said it’s because she’s busy in her civilian life, that she has issues and that she’s doing this so she can at least keep her miraculous safe but we don’t think it’s that…not anymore.

“At first we thought she was doing this because Red Beetle kept turning down her affections- another kettle of fish- but we think it’s something else. Something worse…something more sinister.” He said.

“You think she’s a double agent for Hawkmoth?” Red Robin asked.

Marcel nodded. “With good reason.” He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the next part.

“Chat Noir is Adrianne Agreste. She’s a classmate of mine and the daughter of Gabriel Agreste, our prime suspect.” He said.

………….yup, Dahlia is going to kill that blonde Barbie. Morales be damned, the League taught her torture methods and now would be a justified cause to use them.

“So you think she’s purposely slacking off to undermine him.” Red Robin said.

Marcel simply nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He lowered his head and tried to blink away the tears because, it _hurts_ , why does it still hurt-

“She’s my friend.” He whispered hoarsely. “She’s Red Beetle’s partner, his first partner, we’re hoping we’re wrong and she’s just throwing a tantrum.”

“I doubt that.” Batman said, voice stoic and unforgiving. “Regardless of sentimental friendships, there’s no denying that the facts are stacked against her. I’m sorry but there’s a high chance she’s definitely in league with Hawkmoth.”

“This seems like a case closed already to me. I mean, you’ve seen the evidence and your theories connect the dots in a pretty clear line. Why still come to us?” Red Robin, ever the detective asked.

“Red Beetle’s snuck into their house before but couldn’t find their miraculous. It could be on their person but well….he’s a hero, bad enough he’s breaking and entering, he can’t just go rob people now can he? Sides, he might have some kind of hidden safe or hidden lair which is what we’re trying to find but no luck.

“The LadyBugOut app can only do so much and we’re not the most adept detectives. I for one am definitely not. But the rest of you? You might be able to spot something that flew over our heads and connect the dots.” He said.

“What about the other heroes? How are you certain they won’t turn against Red Beetle too?” Nightwing asked.

“They can be trusted. From what I’ve seen, Red Beetle trusts them enough to let them keep their miraculous so that’s saying something.” He said.

“Red Beetle is the one who chose them to wield the miraculous?” Batman asked.

“Yeah, I guess. He mentions someone else helping him. Maybe a behind the scenes mentor. But that’s my guess. He never told me to outright confirm anything.” He managed to lie that pretty well.

“Possible identities?” Black Bat spoke up for the first time.

“Nope. Even if I did have any, I can’t tell you. The identities of Red Beetle and Mr. Possibly Exists Mentor can’t be compromised. Too much at risk.” He said.

“Other than you and possibly this mentor, does anyone else know Red Beetle’s identity?” Batman asked.

“Just us.” Marcel confirmed.

Batman nodded. Then, Marcel could’ve sworn that he could see the man’s lip quirk upwards slightly.

“You’ve done well, Marcel. This is a lot of responsibility for anyone to handle. But despite it all, you managed. Not many can do that.” Batman said. He can see why Dahlia has taken an interest in him now.

Marcel just blushed- now he was getting personal praise from _the_ Batman!

“I’m just a concerned citizen doing what he can to help.” He said humbly.

“Thanks for trusting us with all this info, kid. We won’t let cha down.” Nightwing said.

Marcel smiled at them, grateful and relieved beyond words.

“We can’t leave Gotham unprotected however. Don’t worry, Marcel, you have my word that we’ll send help over to Paris. We’ll discuss it later and once we’ve reached a decision, we’ll contact you. Is that alright?” Batman asked.

“More than enough.” Marcel said. “Thank you.”

‘Thank you for giving us hope. Thank you for giving us a chance to finally end this nightmare.’

* * *

“I will go to Paris to aid Red Beetle.” Robin said without hesitation.

Currently, the members of the Bat Family were gathered for a family meeting. Even Alfred, Selina, Duke, Lucius, Kate and Harper were in attendance.

“Of course you will.” Batman said, amusement evident with a rare fond smile on his lips.

“Man, you’ve really got it hard for this boy.” Harper shamelessly said out loud.

“He is quite precious.” Selina agreed.

“I wanna go too! I’ve always wanted to go to Paris.” Stephanie volunteered.

“Same.” Barbara said, surprising them. “You guys are gonna need my help for this. Alfred can take over for me in Gotham in the meantime.”

“Of course, I will fulfill my duties.” Alfred said with a nod.

“Ah, what the hell- I’ll tag along too.” Jason said.

“No.” Robin instantly denied with a scowl.

“What? Why not?” he spluttered.

“This situation is delicate and requires finesse which you sorely lack.” She sniffed.

That and she didn’t need his hellion self coming over to torment her and ruin her chances with Marcel. She still hasn’t quite forgiven him for the rooftop fiasco.

“Are you still ticked off about the rooftop?” Jason asked exasperatedly.

“You might need the backup.” Batman intervened, getting them back to business. “Robin, Red Hood, Oracle and Batgirl will take temporary leave from Gotham to aid Paris’s superheroes. Anyone have any objections?”

“I can go with them. They might need an adult chaperone.” Selina volunteered. “And it’s been a while since I’ve been to Paris. Nice place….minus the magic evil butterflies now.”

Jason opened his mouth to point out that _he_ was an adult-

“Todd, you do not count.” Robin told him curtly.

The others wordlessly agreed, the traitors.

Robin crossed her arms over her chest and scowled, still unhappy Jason has to tag along but she didn’t try to deny him permission anymore so Batman will take that as a win.

“Then it’s settled.” Batman finalized.

‘No it isn’t.’ Robin wanted to say as she thought about Marcel.

None of this was settled, not by a long shot.

This was only the beginning.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Dahlia couldn’t sleep. Again.

For the same reasons again too.

Marcel……oh god, what has Marcel been through?

_“Trust me, I know the risks but I’m willing to play my part to bring down Hawkmoth and end this damn nightmare already. Sides, you said so yourself, I can take care of myself.”_

‘Can you, Marcel? Can you really?’ she asked herself. Unfortunately, she had no answer and she wasn’t sure if she wanted one.

_“I just try to see the brighter side of life. I mean, beats lingering on the darker side of things.”_

Her mood soured further when she was reminded that he was unfortunately, stuck in a toxic school environment with cattle for classmates and an incompetent negligent lazy woman for a teacher.

And then there was Adrianne.

God, Dahlia hated that girl.

The very thought of that porcelain doll made her gut curdle like sour milk, her fingers twitch, itching to grab a blade and bury it into that treacherous wrench’s heart because how could she?

Bad enough she had the gall to put Marcel down, she had the audacity to be in league with a manipulative cowardly villain.

And worse….Marcel cared for her.

Perhaps not romantically, but she can tell by his hesitation and reluctance that he cares for her. He’s willing to give her his compassion and kindness, his _trust and friendship._

And look at what she’s doing now.

It wasn’t jealousy. No, it was anger. Anger at the thought of Marcel’s kindness being taken advantage of. No one deserved to be manipulated in that form.

Then white daisies, green grass and feeding ducks took place in her mind. The image of Marcel smiling and laughing with her as they fed the ducks in the pond at Gotham Park.

Gotham Park….daisies……………..

Now her mind recapped to what she had witnessed, even if it was only for a moment.

Dahlia turned in her bed, brows furrowing. The question she’s kept at bay came back full force.

Was Marcel a metahuman? Was that why Red Beetle recruited him? Did Marcel even know of his abilities? Had he been hiding them this whole time and earlier that day, she just so happened to be there to watch him slip up?

The population of metahumans in French was admittedly, low but still there. Even though they haven’t gotten any volatile reports in the past few years, there’s also the possibility that they were simply hiding.

It wasn’t uncommon for metahumans to keep a low profile and hide their powers if they were subtle enough. There was nothing wrong with that- some of them just wanted to move on and live their lives.

But what if Marcel was like them? What if he had powers too?

Still so many questions left without answers. Numerous variables that still haven’t found a place in the equation.

She thought tonight would be the night she got answers.

But lying there, thinking about Marcel….she realized just how many new questions have arisen and how many were still left unanswered.

* * *

“Is somethin’ wrong, hun?”

She glanced back at the daisies; the beautiful pure white bed of daisies prosperously growing in the park.

“It’s nothing, sweetie.”

But her babies told her otherwise. There was a new seed in Gotham and this one was definitely of another batch.

And her babies love him already.

Interesting…..


	7. (Second) Date and Digging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dahlia and Marcel go on their second date and learn a bit more about one another.  
> Plagg and Tikki make a few discoveries themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adrianne salt up ahead.

“So it worked? They’ll really come over to Paris to help?”Sabrina asked, leaning forward, eyes wide and shining with hope.

Marcel nodded with a wide smile on his face. He didn’t sleep long last night but it was definitely the best sleep he’s had in months! The memory of his conversation with the Bat Family last night and how the Dark Knight personally gave him his word to help finally got rid of the weight that had been crushing him for kwami knows how long.

“Of course they’d say yes to you. It’d be utterly ridiculous if they said otherwise.” Chris said, but like Sabrina, his eyes were relieved and hopeful. “So is the Big Bad Bat coming himself?”

“I doubt it. Gotham can’t be left unprotected either.” He pointed out.

“Who cares? They’re coming to help, that’s all that matters!” Sabrina said, ever the more upbeat cheerful one amongst them at times.

Then she glanced at her watch. “Sorry, gotta go. I promised Alix I’d go to the skate park with her.”

“You skate?” both boys asked, surprised.

“No sillies. I’m going to help film her stunts…..and be there in case someone has to call for an ambulance.” She muttered the last part.

“God forbid it comes to that.” Marcel said. Chris wordlessly nodded in agreement.

Then again, Alix would probably be pretty proud if she could add getting hospitalized in Gotham for doing a hardcore skater stunt to her list of accomplishments in life.

“I know I’ve already said this before but damn, Dahlia’s a savage. She really tore Mme. Bustier a new one yesterday.” Chris said, smirking as he remembered the verbal massacre Dahlia committed yesterday.

“She doesn’t hesitate. Kagami would definitely approve.” Marcel admitted.

“She would make a most excellent Queen for you, Marcel.” Pollen agreed.

Marcel blushed. “We’re not that far yet.”

“Dude, you kissed her on your first date.” Chris deadpanned.

“It was in the heat of the moment!” he squawked, face turning red when he remembered the bold move he pulled off.

“Instead of focusing on the then, let’s focus on the now.” Tikki butted in. “Look outside! The sky’s blue and cloudy but the sun is shining. It’s a perfect day for a picnic!”

Marcel hummed then paused at Tikki’s words.

A picnic…….

His mind wandered back to Gotham Park, a place full of inspiration and then Dahlia, an inspiring girl herself……

“I know that look….” Chris said. Then he slowly smiled. “Hit me, what cha thinking in there?”

“I think Tikki’s right. It’s a perfect day for a picnic!” Marcel said as an idea formed. His mind began to go into overdrive as he formulated the plan.

It would only be the two of them so he wouldn’t have to buy much, thus, not having to spend much money and once he came back, if he started working and kept up the consistency, even after lunch….hm………yeah……yes, he can do this! He can make it work!

Chris, Tikki, Pollen and Kaalki glanced at one another, a knowing look passing between them.

Although Marcel could be a bit disorganized and hurried, there’s no denying that he has a strategic mind with enough discipline to formulate ideas and arrange a plan to execute them with efficiency. It’s how he got them all this trip to Gotham in the first place after all.

“Chris, grab your wallet, we’re going shopping!” Marcel said, a bright gleam in his eyes, notifying them that he was fully in the mode now.

Originally, today was a day where there were no plans so all the students could rest at the hotel or explore Gotham at their own leisure. Initially, Chris thought Marcel and him would stay in to rest after the ordeal last night but……

Well, this day just got a whole lot more interesting.

* * *

[Chat name: Paris Boi & Gotham Gurl]

Angel: R u free tonight?

Dahlia blinked, rereading the text to confirm and when she did, she felt her heart flutter but quickly regained composure.

GGF: Why?

Angel: It’s a surprise.

GGF: Doesn’t that kinda ruin it already?

Angel:…………

Angel: Darn it

Dahlia giggled. She could only imagine him adorably pouting in frustration on the other end.

Angel: Gotham Park. Tonight at 7

Angel: You in?

Her heart skipped a beat. Gotham Park? Tonight? At 7? Why? Wait…..was he…….

GGF: Are you asking me out?

Angel: ;)

A voice in her mind- the constant root of discipline and control ingrained inside her- reminded her that tonight she had patrol to do as Robin. Crime could occur tonight and Robin would be needed to stop it.

But another voice- one that she’s been trying to put equal priority on for a while now- also reminded her that there were the others. Yes, they were annoying buffoons but they were experienced buffoons too. They were capable of handling the crimes as well.

She found herself pacing her room, conflicted. Should she say yes? No? Should she wait to see how the wind blew first then answer? But was it right to keep Marcel hanging like that? Would it be rude? Disrespectful? Unfair?

But if she ignored him, would he begin to doubt their relationship? The trust between them?

‘This is only your second date.’ She suddenly realized. ‘And this time, he’s willing to take the first step. He was willing to do the same for me back then…..isn’t it fair that I do it too?’

‘But what would father say?’ another voice butted in. ‘You have your responsibilities, your duties, the _Mission_.’

‘That is a commitment but now I have another one too. How can I push it away?’

‘But which one should be prioritized?’

“Mistress Dahlia? Are you alright?”

Her head snapped up at the familiar British accented voice. She must’ve been really lost if she hadn’t noticed him arrive.

“I’m fine, Pennyworth. Just….thinking.” she said.

He merely gave her the look- the same look he gives to every member of the family, _especially her father_ when he _knows_ something is up.

“If I may, Mistress Dahlia, I understand your conflict.” The butler merely said, giving her a wise knowing look with his eyes alone. “You are now a beautiful capable young woman and you’re becoming your own person. But no journey in life is a lonely endeavor.

“The destination is a priority but the loneliness, the need to have a companion to reach it is not to be ignored either. Thus, you are at a crossroads, having to choose between a shortcut to reach your destination or to take the longer detour in favor of spending more time with your companion. But both decisions have one thing in common.

“Regardless of which path you take, you’ll eventually reach your destination anyways. So what harm can one small detour do, especially if it benefits both you and your companion as well?”

Alfred’s words rang in her mind, running over her conflicted heart like gentle water. Slowly, the conflict settled and control returned.

“I understand the moral you are trying to teach me, Pennyworth….thank you.” She said, giving him a sincere smile of gratitude.

Wise and experienced as her father was, Alfred Pennyworth always had the level of patience and empathy no one in their family could truly attain.

“I am merely fulfilling my duties, Mistress Dahlia.” He told her, giving a cordial bow but she could see the smile tugging at his lips.

“Now then, hurry on to the table. I have a fresh batch of French toast ready and they are best served warm.” He said before gently guiding her towards the dining room.

“Morning, Dali.” Tim greeted distractedly, eyes glued to his laptop.

“Morning Tim.” She said.

At that, the staccato rhythm of typing paused and Tim tore his eyes away from the screen. It was then he noticed his youngest sister’s lighter mood.

“You’re….in a good mood today.” He said, blinking owlishly and wondering if sleep deprivation and caffeine have gone too far.

Dahlia simply hummed before helping herself to a serving of toast.

Deciding to spare his sanity, Tim went back to his laptop.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“Good morning, father.” Dahlia greeted.

“Good morning, Dahlia.” He greeted back, offering her a small smile.

“Father, may I request leave from tonight’s patrol?” she asked, trying to keep her voice calm.

“Why?” he asked, slightly surprised.

“Marcel asked me out on a date tonight.” She said, deciding to not beat around the bush. “It’s only our second date and I assure you, this one doesn’t involve any law breaking.” She added.

“Ah yes, increased security for access towards the rooftop. I have to remind Lucius about that.” He said teasingly.

“So….can I go tonight with your consent?” she asked.

He gave her a gentle smile and nodded. It was only fair since she was willing to be open to him about it. Not the first time he was reminded that she’s matured since she first came.

“As long as you’re back by midnight.” He said sternly. There had to be limits after all.

“Of course, father. Thank you for granting me your approval.” She said with a small nod before walking out, her footsteps lighter than before and a rare smile on her face.

Jason yawned, running a hand through his hair. He glanced up and saw Dahlia walk past him, his still half-asleep mind not noticing the bounce in her step.

“Mornin’ Dali.” He muttered.

“Good morning, Jason.” She replied with a small smile-

Wait.

She doesn’t smile.

Jason’s head snapped back, watching as his youngest sister continued on with a lighter bounce in her step. What in the world just-

“The world’s gonna end.” He whispered, horrified. “The world is about to mcfu$king end.”

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

[Chat name: Paris Boi & Gotham Gurl]

GGF: I’m in

* * *

Marcel hummed as he mixed the batter for the macaroons. The room was filled with aromatic smells courtesy of his cooking. The kitchenette was small but it had everything he needed to work with which was more than enough. Plus, he wasn’t even making that much so it wasn’t too much of a hassle.

“How’s it cookin’ Gordon Ramsay?” Alix asked as she came back with Sabrina.

“Well enou- are you ok?” he asked in concern, putting down the bowl full of macaroon batter when he saw the scrapes on Alix’s knee and one on her cheek.

“Fine.” She waved off. “Took one of the turns too fast and hit a crack.” She explained.

“I’ve got some antibiotic ointment and plasters.” He hurried over to his bag to dig it out.

“Mar, chill. I’m fine. I’ve had worse.” Alix said but Sabrina guided her to sit anyways.

“I’ll patch her up.” Sabrina said. “You focus on cooking.”

“Thanks.” Marcel said, passing her the ointment and plasters. Alix grumbled about them being too fussy like grannies but didn’t protest when Sabrina got to work.

“Is that lavender I smell?” Chris asked, sauntering in himself.

“Mmhm. They had it on discount.” Marcel said.

“Lavender honey macaroons?” Chris’s eyebrows shot up when he saw the honey. “You’re really going all out.”

“Of course, it’s my first date- well, second but it is a first for me since _I’m_ the one who asked her instead.” Marcel said, piping the macaroons out.

“So you plan on hijacking a speedboat and going over to a private island to have your private picnic, gazing at the stars in the sky?” Alix teased.

“Ok, first off- there will be no law breaking this time. Second- we’re just going for a picnic at Gotham Park.” Marcel defended.

“Yeah, a canoe probably would’ve been more romantic.” Alix waved off.

“Like in Venice?” Sabrina asked.

“Exactly.” Alix agreed.

“Oooh can I have a taste-” Pollen flitted over to the batter but Marcel gently stopped her with a push of his finger.

“Sorry, Pollen. Not this time.” He apologized.

“I’ve tried a few times myself. You heard the warden.” Tikki told Pollen, having attempted to get a taste of the delicious batter only to be foiled.

Pollen pouted but complied.

“So, second date where you made the first move.” Chris mused. “When are you gonna meet the in-laws?”

“I don’t think we’ll be rushing that far. And I’m kinda worried- I mean, you’ve seen her rides, she’s loaded!” Marcel emphasized with a wave of his spoon.

“Hello? What am I, invisible?” Chris asked with a raised brow.

“You’re different. You’re my best friend.” He pointed out.

“Touché.” The blonde admitted.

“Hm….maybe I can ask her tonight. Then maybe I can make something for Mr and Mrs………………………..” Marcel paused tapping the tray to get rid of the air bubbles, his mind going blank as he suddenly realized a glaringly obvious detail.

Or rather, a lack thereof.

“Mar?” Chris asked, waving a hand in front of his face. “You okay?”

“I don’t know her name….” he said, realization dawning.

“Mar? You’re scaring us.” Sabrina said.

“Guys, I don’t know Dahlia’s surname!” Marcel said, emphasizing it by tapping the tray harder than needed.

That made them all pause.

And it was then, they realized that in all the time they’ve seen her, the time she’s spent with them, even in her interactions with Marcel, not once did she reveal her surname.

“Maybe she’s an orphan?” Sabrina suggested. Internally however, she cringed at her own lie.

She knew the truth and for a moment, she contemplated telling them on the spot but….should she? Was it really her place to tell?

“Maybe she’s ashamed of her surname?” Alix suggested.

“Maybe she wants to have the whole cryptic mysterious vibe and leave you in suspense?” Chris suggested.

Marcel frowned, not convinced.

Why didn’t she tell him? Did she not trust him, even after everything? Or was he overreacting? Or was he rushing things? Or was this just who Dahlia was like Chris said- the type to be cryptic and leave others in suspense?

“Hey.” Chris said, gently grabbing his shoulder. “You said so yourself, you’re taking it slow. Maybe you just have to wait a while longer. Stuff like this takes time to build.”

“Yeah…..” Marcel said then he slowly nodded. “Yeah, you’re right.” He offered a small smile though it was shaky.

“Oh come on, it’s just a surname! For all we know, this is just how she plays her song and dance. To keep things interesting.” Alix said.

“She definitely isn’t your average girl.” Sabrina agreed.

“Yeah, you guys are right.” He said with a bigger smile this time. “I mean….not like she’s keeping some huge world changing secret from me, right?”

Right?

It was just her surname- her family name! ………..right?

* * *

Dahlia glanced over the data once more, the words pressing themselves against her vision to rub the facts into her face.

“Hell’s teeth.” She hissed.

Currently, she was going over the files her father had copied and given to all the Bats- especially those who will be going to Paris to aid Red Beetle. Naturally, the first thing she did was go over the files on the akumas and sentimonsters.

She didn’t like what she saw.

_“Actually, it’s personal for my whole class. Hawkmoth’s hurt all of us in some way or another already.”_

_“…..your classmates, they’ve…..”_

_“They’ve been akumatized. Some more than once.”_

_Everyone_ in Marcel’s class has been akumatized at least once- even the teacher, even the _principal_.

Well….almost everyone.

Sure enough, only two members of Marcel’s class weren’t listed- Marcel himself and Adrianne Agreste though it wasn’t all that surprising considering what the former already told them last night and the latter’s involvement.

She wasn’t ashamed to admit that, yes, after what happened last night, she started to do a background check on Marcel.

Her research found nothing above average. His parents were bakers- father of French and Italian descent whereas his mother was of Asian descent. They all lived content lives with good food, an honest business courtesy of their bakery offering them steady finance support with a decent roof over their heads.

Marcel himself was pretty average and even she daresay accomplished. His grades though occasionally abysmal were above average, he's one of the top students in his class; his record was clean save a few absences and tardiness; he was class representative/ president and did a damn good job at it; he even won a good few competitions and gained the interest of Audrey Bourgeois, one of the harshest fashion critiques in the world-who also happens to be Chris’s mother, go figure; and not once did he ever do anything remotely juvenile.

Beyond the education system, she’s checked anything else noteworthy and saw nothing….unusual. His medical records were clean and authentic with nothing to point that he was possibly a metahuman.

This didn’t answer any of her questions, much less quell her worries.

Shaking her head, she closed the file. No point in forcing herself to look at the file further when she’s already memorized the whole list.

Checking the time, she also realized she has bigger matters to focus on.

Such as her date with Marcel.

And thus, that’s how she found herself where she was now.

Dahlia glanced at her reflection one more time, eyeing herself up and down, looking for even the smallest of faults.

Like last time, Dahlia had once again requested Barbara’s advice for her outfit. This time she wore a lace off-shoulder top under a pair of short overalls with matching lace socks and Mary Jane shoes. At Barbara’s insistence, she even wore a necklace and some simple bracelets.

“You sure this suits me?” Dahlia asked.

“You look perfect, Dahlia. He’ll love it.” Barbara reassured her once more.

Dahlia nodded and composed herself. Barbara was right; her attire was fitting for the date. She must not fret or overthink for it will merely cause unnecessary troubles.

“Go knock his socks off.” Barbara waved in farewell.

* * *

“I must say, Marcel. Simple it might be but these creations are morsels fit for a king!” Kaalki note with approval.

“Thanks.” Marcel said, packing the last of the food into the basket. It was also his luck that there was a table cloth in the cabinet of his room, perfect to sit on top of for the picnic.

“Ready to take another step?” Alix asked, leaning on the wall.

“I’d say I’m born ready but that’s a lie.” Marcel admitted.

“Take a chill pill, Mar. You’ll knock her right off her feet.” Alix said, giving him a gentle elbow nudge.

“Pity I can’t bring flowers. Didn’t have the time.” He said.

He blinked when he suddenly found a one flower bouquet in front of his face. A dahlia flower no less.

“Took a short detour on the way back from the skate park.” Alix informed him with a wink.

“Alix, you’re a miracle worker.” He told her, gratefully accepting the flower.

“Beats messy chocolates.” She said. “Have fun.” Giving a two finger salute, she walked off.

Marcel checked the time and realized he had to change. Now.

Hurriedly throwing off his messy clothes, he pulled a polo shirt over his head and grabbed a pair of capri pants. Throwing on his maroon leather jacket, he slipped his feet into his slip-ons, grabbed the basket and walked off towards the lobby to catch the Uber he’d called ahead of time.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Adrianne got off the elevator with a sigh. Today, she had to spend the whole day with some quality ‘girl time’ with her two ‘besties’.

Seriously, having to listen Lila drone on and on about god knows who at god knows where doing god knows what was getting tedious. Having to force herself to not nod off was a battle in itself.

She noticed with surprise that Marcel was in the lobby, texting someone on his phone and- wait, was that a basket? Was he going out for a picnic? At this time? With who-

The black haired girl came back to mind.

She scowled, her fists clenching so tight her nails dug into her palms.

What was Marcel thinking going out at this hour in a place like Gotham just to meet up with some random Gothamite girl?! All this, just for what….a date? _Were_ they dating? Did Marcel actually love that…..that snobbish stuck-up shabby rude disrespectful girl?

This was bad. Clearly the Gothamite Girl had influenced him and he didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve her and she didn’t deserve someone as pure as _her Prince_.

She briskly walked forward, ready to talk some sense into Marcel, try to gently make him see the wrongness of it all and pull the cotton away from his eyes.

“Whoa! Hey!” suddenly, a familiar short pinkhead was in front of her, barring her way. Said pinkhead’s eyes narrowed defensively.

“Where do you think you’re going, blondie?” Alix asked.

“Out of my way, Alix. Where do you think _Marcel’s_ going?” Adrianne asked.

“Out. What, since when did you become his keeper?” Alix snarked, defiantly crossing her arms in front of her and refusing to budge.

“I need to talk to Marcel, move.” Adrianne hissed.

“Why should I? So you can ruin this for him? Ruin his date?” Alix snapped. “News flash! You had your chance and you blew it. He’s moved on so suck it up.”

“That girl is dangerous, how can you trust her?!” Adrianne spluttered. “I thought you were Marcel’s friend.”

“That’s rich coming from you.” Alix sneered. “If you really were his friend, you would’ve noticed that he’s happier now. He’s happy with this ‘dangerous’ girl and he’s happier with her than he’s ever been with you!”

That last part struck her heart like a knife.

“Look, she’s not a sunshine preppy cheerful compliant goody two shoes like you. So? The world doesn’t revolve around people like you, Adrianne, wake up! This isn’t some Disney movie.” Alix went on.

Adrianne’s eyes narrowed at Alix and….wait, was it the lighting or did the blonde’s pupils actually turn slitted for a moment?

Alix won’t admit it but for a moment, a shiver ran down her spine and she felt a sense of dread form a lump in her throat. In that instance, something was wrong- it was _dark_ and wrong and it shouldn’t be on Adrianne’s face, it shouldn’t be on _anyone’s_ face actually.

But she was Alix fu$king Kubdel, she backed down from _nobody_.

“I’m serious. Leave Mar alone and don’t ruin this for him.” She hissed, boldly jabbing Adrianne in the chest.

“I’m not trying to ruin anything for him; I’m trying to help him!” Adrianne said exasperatedly, god, she was this close to ripping her own hair out.

“Then you can help by staying out of his way and giving him his space! Look, you think I don’t know how it is? You miss it, don’t cha? You miss having Mar follow you around like some lost puppy and doting on you on a high pedestal as though you were some kinda goddess.” Alix sneered.

“Wha- Alix, it’s not like that!” Adrianne spluttered.

“Maybe you were uncomfortable with it at first but admit it, deep down, you liked the attention- and now that it’s gone, you want it back. Well you ain’t gonna get it. Marcel isn’t obligated to give you his friendship much less his feelings after what you’ve done to him.

“He’s found a girl he can actually talk to, actually be himself around, actually _love and understand_ instead of fanboy over. He’s moved on and he’s actually committed now. So stop trying to string him back after you’ve played him for so long!” she snapped before turning around and stomping off.

Adrianne growled at the pinkhead. Her fingers twitched and the ring on her finger seemingly tightened its wrap around her finger, reminding her that she had the very power of raw Destruction on her fingertips.

Oh how easy it would’ve been to just disintegrate Alix out of her way......

“Kid, get a hold of yourself.” Plagg hissed. “You promised Marcel you’d lie low and behave, you seriously going to break that promise and mess this up even more?”

Adrianne closed her eyes and took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. Turning around, she stalked back to the elevator still pissed but more or less in control now.

She was definitely gonna have a chat with Marcel later.

* * *

Dahlia found him waiting for her on the bench- the same one they had sat on to admire the daisies yesterday.

“Hi.” She greeted.

“Hi.” He beamed back. Then he gave her a one flower bouquet- a dahlia flower. “You look amazing.” He said, voice awed.

Dahlia’s cheeks turned pink. “The opinion is mutual.” She said, graciously accepting the flower.

He offered her his arm and she accepted. He guided her towards a grassy field surrounded by more flowers and her heart stuttered when she saw the picnic setting he had set up.

“Here.” He said, passing her a croque monsieur that made her mouth water. “I made it myself. It’s a family recipe.”

Dahlia bit into it and good heavens, even Alfred would give his approval.

“It’s delicious.” She said.

There was also a thermos of nourishing soup and a platter of simple fruits. They ate amiably while they conversed between bites, simply enjoying each other’s company in the peaceful atmosphere.

“Dessert time.” Marcel said, taking out a container full of macaroons. “Try one, they’re lavender honey macaroons.”

Dahlia did and although she was not one for sweets they were heavenly in her mouth. She’s willing to bet even Alfred would be jealous.

“You made all this?” she asked.

“Yup.” He said, eating one himself. “Mama and Papa taught me. I knew how to bake bread and pipe batter before I knew how to put on my own clothes.”

“You truly are a man of many talents.” She mused.

“Fortunately I am a law-abiding citizen.” He said with a mock-serious expression though it was untimely ruined by the quirk of his lips.

He laughed and she found herself bubbling with laughter too as they recalled the inside joke of their first date.

Unbeknownst to them, another couple was doing the same on the other side of the park.

“Ah yeah, that was one helluva party, huh?” Harley said, laughing as she remembered one of many parties she and Ivy had gone a bit whacko in.

“Yes, he was quite nimble on his feet. Not many men can tap dance on the roof of a police car in high heels.” Ivy agreed.

Then she froze, going shock still as she felt it in her core; as she heard her babies whisper to her, telling it to her personally.

“Pam? Hey, something wrong dandelioness? You alright?” Harley asked when she noticed her girlfriend’s sudden silence.

“He’s here. My babies can feel him.” Ivy told her.

“Who- oooooh, you mean our mystery nature lover?” Harley said.

Ivy nodded and got up, a woman on a mission.

“Well this just got a whole lot more interestin’.” Harley said, skipping alongside Ivy. “What cha think he looks like?”

“We’re about to find out.” Ivy said.

“-and then the next thing I know, Mama’s ditched the rolling pin and grabbed a cleaver.” Marcel went on as he regaled the tale of how his mother once scared off a burglar.

“I almost pity the criminal.” Dahlia mused. Apparently, Marcel’s mother was secretly a savage. Considering how- according to Marcel- she was born in the year/month of the Tiger, she wasn’t surprised.

“Yeah, according to Papa, the guy shit his pants and started doing the sign against evil, thinking Mama was a punisher from hell sent to give him his comeuppance.” He went on.

“And did he get his comeuppance?” Dahlia asked.

“The actually legal police saw to that.” He said.

“You have quite the family.” She said with a small shake of her head though….deep down, a part of her couldn’t stop the small pang of envy over the fact that Marcel had such a happy loving mother.

“It’s just Mama, Papa and I. There’s Nonna but she travels around a lot. You should really meet her, trust me she’ll like you too, I can tell.” He said.

Then he paused as he remembered a detail he still hasn’t gained clarity on.

“Speaking of family, what about yours?” he asked casually.

“Oh.” Dahlia said, surprisingly composed. A part of her knew this was inevitable but….he didn’t directly ask for her family name so maybe she doesn’t have to drop the bomb yet?

“Well it’s pretty big.” She admitted. “And I’m not related to all my siblings. In fact, the majority of them are adopted.”

“How many?” he asked.

“Too many for my tastes.” She huffed. “But…..as incorrigible as they are, they’re family. We can’t always stand each other but we can’t live without each other either.”

Dysfunctional is a mild way to describe her family. Time has passed and the wounds have healed somewhat but they were inflicted and a scar was left in its wake.

There’s no changing the fact that in the past, years ago, her family had been _broken_. There were times when they had drifted apart and divided; rough times where mistakes were made and prices had to be paid; damnable bad luck at the wrong time and place; moments that led to a string of consequences which brought them to where they were now.

But Dahlia knew she wouldn’t change any of it.

Yes, they had their cracks but they were pieced back together now and those same cracks were what made them stronger than ever.

“You really care for them, huh? Even if they make you wanna chew rocks, you still love them because that’s part of the package.” Marcel said.

Dahlia hummed. “Yes though I wouldn’t resort to something as crass as that. I would rather stab them, much more therapeutic.”

“….you’re kidding right?” he asked.

“Of course.” She said with a straight face.

……………….okay, Marcel was a tiny bit worried.

Ivy blinked as she and Harley transgressed the grass until she saw a couple up ahead, evidently having a picnic. She’d followed her instincts and the instructions relayed by her babies so far and right now, they were prompting her that the answer was right there.

“Hey, wait a sec.” Harley shielded a hand over her eyes and narrowed them. “Ain’t that Mini Ms. Wayne? Big Bruce Wayne’s lil girl?”

Ivy glanced on and sure enough, it was Dahlia Wayne but her attention wasn’t on the Gothamite girl; it was the boy next to her.

Now that they were closer, Ivy could understand why her babies have already grown fond of the boy. He seemed to emit that radiance that only they could see, a form of radiance only they could _understand_.

Life seemed to hum under the boy’s skin, gently lulling and rippling like waves of petals. So pure and gentle yet so very strong. So full of potential that was begging to be unleashed.

Whether they knew it or not, another thing both Dahlia and Marcel had in the common was the ‘sixth sense’; the uncanny ability to simply know when someone else is there watching you behind your back.

They turned around and Marcel was shocked to see Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy standing there, staring at them, in the flesh.

Marcel wondered how nobody noticed them sooner.

Dahlia tensed, instantly ready for action. Her utility belt under her overalls grew warmer, as though preparing for action as well. A part of her wished she had worn something longer or looser or had carry a bag of sorts along to stash her katana.

But….they were Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy- both capable combatants and well….like Marcel said, they’ve turned over a new leaf. Plus, it was rather foolish for them to just stand out in the open like that. If they’d wanted to ambush them, they could’ve done so a long time ago.

So what were they doing here?

The two Gotham Sirens approached them and Marcel tensed.

“Should we…….?” He asked Dahlia uncertainly.

“I…..don’t think they want to hurt us. Trust me, if they wanted to, they would’ve already.” She said.

“Oh. That’s reassuring.” He said and Dahlia was surprised by the lack of worry or sarcasm in his voice.

Harley squealed when they got up close and she got a good look at the chap who was sittin with Mini Ms. Wayne havin a cute lil picnic- it was romantic, really.

“Oooooh look at him, Pam. Isn’t he adorbs?” she cooed, squishing Marcel’s cheeks much to his surprise.

“Uh……” he said, looking like a deer in headlights.

“Hey.” Dahlia said. “Hands off.” She said, prying Harley’s hands away from Marcel and stretching one out in front of him protectively.

“Cool your horses Mini Ms. Wayne, we ain’t here to hurt cha. Just curious.” Harley reassured. “Must say though, oh lala you got yourself a good one. Didn’t know you had a type.”

“Hi? Nice jacket by the way Ms….Harley? Ms Quinn?” Marcel said.

“Why thanks hun! Just got it.” She said with a cheerful grin. “And please, call me Harley.”

“Hi there, what’s your name?” Ivy asked.

“Marcel.” He said simply.

“Hello, Marcel.” Ivy said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. My babies have talked about you a lot recently.”

“Say wha?” he asked, confused.

“You mean your plants?” Dahlia supplied. Maybe this could work in her favour after all.

Ivy hummed in confirmation. “They’ve been feeling well lately, amazing in fact. They’ve never felt this healthy, this….alive. So full of life and prosperity and I notice it’s all been pointing towards you.”

Marcel was internally panicking now. _Merde_ , he knew the side effect of his miraculous was getting stronger but he didn’t think anyone else would notice, much less the infamous Poison Ivy.

Sure, Poison Ivy wouldn’t hurt him- he truly did believe she’s turned over a new leaf- but what if someone else does too? Someone more sinister and malevolent?

“Mama and Papa did always say I had a green thumb.” He lamely tried to joke.

“I think it’s more than just that. You’re special, Marcel. I can feel it.” Ivy said.

“As enlightening as this is, why are you here?” Dahlia asked. “All due respect but we were in the middle of something.”

First it was Red Hood and now the Gotham Sirens do the job of crashing her dates. This better not be a sick running gag the universe has decided to dish out on her.

“Yeah, sorry bout that. Didn’t mean ta intrude on your picnic- oh are those macaroons?” Harley asked.

“Yeah. Lavender honey…….want one?” Marcel offered.

“Aw, thanks. Aren’t you the sweetest.” Harley cooed graciously accepting a macaroon and popping it in her mouth.

“Mm-mm! These are delish! Where’d ya get em?” she asked.

“I made them myself.” He said.

“No wonder they’re as sweet as you.” She cooed, pinching his cheeks. Then she leaned towards Dahlia. “This one’s a keeper.” She dramatically stage-whispered.

Dahlia rolled her eyes. “Wow, I didn’t notice.” She drawled.

“Anyways, Ms….Ivy, I’m glad that I’m able to help the environment and all but…I’m pretty much your average kid.” He said, hoping he could somehow play this off.

“Sorry, Marcel but in Gotham, average isn’t an average thing either.” She said.

“Well you do have a family of bats and birds watching over you.” He agreed. “By the way, the daisies you contributed to the park are beautiful. They really gave me muse.”

“Thank you.” She said, preening slightly. She was glad someone was willing to acknowledge her small token

“Anyhoo, nice as this is, I think we’ll leave you two lovebirds be. Got things to do before your killjoy curfew and all that, am I right?” Harley said.

“It’s been nice meeting you, Marcel.” Ivy said. Taking out a marigold seed, she activated her powers and made it grow in an instant. “I hope we can meet again.” She said, offering him the marigold like an olive branch.

He smiled and graciously accepted it without an ounce of fear. “It’s been nice meeting you too, Ms. Ivy.”

“Isley. Please, call me Isley.” She said with a gentle smile.

“It’s been nice meeting you, Ms. Isley.” Marcel corrected.

She gave them both one last smile before walking off, hand in hand with Harley.

For a while, Marcel and Dahlia sat there, waiting until the two Gotham Sirens were out of the view. Marcel was also reeling at the fact that he had just encountered another two prominent figures of Gotham…..while on a date no less.

Just like with Red Hood.

………….god this better not be a running gag the universe has bestowed on him.

“They were nice.” He finally said, breaking the silence.

“Hmm.” Dahlia half-hummed half-grunted. A sound she’s learned from her father.

“They seemed to know you.” He said.

She shrugged. “I have….unique connections.” She said weakly.

“Yeah. Harley even called you-” he paused, back turning ramrod straight as he recalled what Harley had called her.

_“Cool your horses Mini Ms. Wayne.”_

Mini Ms. Wayne.

_Wayne._

As in, _Wayne_ Industries run by Bruce _Wayne._

Slowly, ever so methodically slowly, he turned towards her, eyes wide as dinner plates and his jaw dropped so big, Dahlia could fit a few apples in there.

Oh………..

OH.

He’s figured it out.

……..crap.

“Marcel, I can explain-” she quickly tried to calm down.

“Dahlia Wayne. That’s your surname- that’s why you were at Wayne Industries!” he said and suddenly it all made sense.

_“My father works here.” “I often accompany him here.”_

Of course her father works there, he _owns_ the company! He runs it!

_“Don’t worry, I have more clearance than you might suspect.”_

The building _belonged_ to her father and she was daughter; thus, she was his heir and would one day own it too so of course she’d have the clearance!

“Marcel, I swear I didn’t mean to keep this from you. I was going to tell you but I didn’t know when would be an appropriate time or how to do so without…..” she hesitated.

Without what? Sending him in shock from the revelation? Sending him into hurt over the fact that she was willing to begin an intimate committed relationship with him but not even tell her something as basic as her family name?

“I didn’t….want you to look or think of me differently.” She said.

“What?” Marcel asked, confused.

“I wanted to get to know you. I wanted to understand you, bond with you, gain your friendship and trust as a person. I didn’t want my family name to draw a line between us so I thought it didn’t matter if you didn’t know about it. But I swear, I was going to tell you and I’m sorry if I upset you over something as trivial as this.” She said.

“Dahlia……” he said.

“If you’re angry at me, that’s understandable. I should’ve trusted you with something as basic as this but I didn’t.” she whispered, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible.

“Wait, wha- Dahlia, I’m not mad. I was never angry at you! I'm just shocked more than anything.” He said.

“You………aren’t upset? At all?” she asked, surprised.

“No? I mean, you had your reasons and who am I to choose what secrets you wanna tell. Look, I’ll admit, I’m definitely surprised that you’re a Wayne but I’m _not_ mad. Not at all.” He said.

His bluebell eyes were as clear as a summer’s sky with no traces of hidden anger or hurt. She felt a tension she didn’t know was suffocating her bleed away.

“And besides.” He gently tilted her chin up, giving her that smile once more. “Even if you weren’t a Wayne, I wouldn’t trade you for any other girl in the world. You’re not a Wayne daughter to me; to me you’re just an amazing girl named Dahlia who I’m blessed to have as an amazing girlfriend.”

The emotions coursing through her were overwhelming and nearly sent her to tears. But she reined them in and settled on one- gratitude.

“Thank you, Marcel.” She said.

“For what?” he asked.

In a bold move, she surged forward and pressed her lips against his. His eyes widened in shock before he relaxed, allowing himself to melt into their second kiss.

“For understanding me….for accepting me.” She told him, pressing their foreheads together.

Dahlia would look back on that night, having a quaint but heartfelt picnic in Gotham Park under the stars with Marcel as he embraced her for who she was despite her consequential family name as one of the most relieved moments of her life.

“……hey Dahlia?” he asked.

“Hm?”

“Does this mean we basically trespassed on your father’s own property?” he asked.

“…..it’s water under the bridge, don’t worry about it.”

“Is he mad about it?”

“Water under the bridge, Marcel.” She repeated.

“…….does he know about us?”

“Yes.” No point in hiding that truth from him.

“………………should I be worried?”

“No. My siblings? I’m thankful I’m not blood-related to them.”

“….again, should I be worried?”

She just kissed him on the cheek.

“I’d say those worries aren’t worth your attention right now.” She said, leaning against his shoulder.

“Yeah…you got a point.” He agreed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

And so they sat in companionable silence, contentedly relishing one another’s company.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Marcel’s stomach was starting to hurt from how much he was laughing. He was glad he wasn’t in the driver’s seat, otherwise he’s pretty sure they would’ve swerved out of control by now.

“The next thing I know, he’s on the rooftop singing ‘I’ve got a lovely bunch of coconuts’ at the top of his lungs and to this day, I have no idea where he got the sombrero from, much less the hula skirt.” Dahlia said, recounting one of the times where Jason had gotten drunk to the point he did a good few things that they decided to not question for the sake of their sanity.

“Man, your brother sounds like a party animal.” Marcel said.

“That’s exactly what he is at times- an animal. Actually, he’s not an animal- he’s the whole zoo in one body.” She huffed.

“Wow, wild.” Marcel said.

For a moment, his mind wandered back to the time Alya’s father got akumatized into Animan. The man was literally the entire zoo in one body- even Jurassic Park was included!

Soon, they arrived back at the hotel and Dahlia walked in with Marcel.

Much to her annoyance, she noticed the blonde Barbie was standing there as though waiting for their return.

“Adrianne? What are you doing here?” Marcel asked.

“I could ask you the same.” She shot back, tone accusatory as though she caught Marcel doing something wrong red-handed. The blonde’s eyes glared at her. “What is _she_ doing here?” she asked.

“'She' is here to keep Marcel company, like _a good friend_ would do.” Dahlia passively jabbed.

“He has friends and they aren’t you.” Adrianne snarled.

“You’re not his friend either. Memory serves, you jumped off that boat back at Wayne Industries already.” Dahlia shot back.

“Marcel, can you believe this?” she asked, turning towards Marcel as though expecting him to be on her side.

“Believe that someone can actually be a good friend for me and defend me?” he said with a raised brow.

“Come on, Mar, are you still bitter from what happened at Wayne Industries? You can’t keep up this act forever.” She said.

At that, his bluebell eyes turned icy, the gentleness hardening as he narrowed them at her.

“First off, _do not_ call me Mar. Only my friends call me that and you’ve made it clear we are no longer friends. Second, if you seriously think this is all just an act then you don’t know me at all. Some ‘friend’ you are.” He snapped.

“Wha- Marcel I-”

“Look, Adrianne. I just had a wonderful night with an amazing girl. I’m not going to have you ruin this for me by making it end like this. It’s not worth my happiness, _you’re_ not worth my happiness. So goodnight and goodbye.” He said.

He gave Dahlia a goodbye peck on the cheek- _merde_ , so they _are_ dating?!- before brushing past Adrianne, not even sparing her a glance.

Dahlia watched, a proud smile on her face as she saw her boyfriend- yup, she can definitely call him that now- make his stand.

“You…” Adrianne snarled, glaring at her in pure hatred, her fingers twitching as though she wanted to scratch her.

Dahlia just raised an eyebrow, looking the very picture of uninterested.

“Listen you, if you think Marcel-”

“No, you listen you infidel.” She said, voice low and even but it rang with power and stabbed her with authority that demanded nothing less than silence and attention.

“I don’t care who you are but know this- Marcel is an amazing, kind, compassionate, selfless, intelligent, talented and capable young man who is leagues above the likes of you and your entire class combined. Someone of your caliber isn’t worthy of standing beside him as a significant equal.

“You’re too dense to even recognize the true depth of your feelings for him, yet have the gall to dictate him as though he’s obligated to do as such. You have the audacity to _hurt_ him in ways you can’t even comprehend yourself and then expect him to forgive you.

“If you truly think you’re the one who deserves that sacred position by his side, then fine. I welcome the competition but know this.”

Dahlia stepped forward like a panther ready to strike, her mere presence and green eyes radiating an aura of intensity that made Adrianne flinch and step back.

_“I don’t intend to lose.”_

With that said, she turned on her heel and walked out, her head held high and not sparing a glance back at her as though she was nothing.

Adrianne watched her go. And every moment she spent looking at her made the pure hatred she had towards her grow stronger and stronger, spiking under her being, begging to be unleashed.

‘Just one touch.’ She realized. ‘Just a slight graze of your fingers and she’ll be gone. She’ll be gone and away from my Prince and he’ll be mine. He’ll be safe.’

“Kid!” Plagg hissed when he saw her pupils dilate into slits. This was bad, this was bad, this was bad-

“Kid, snap out of it!” he hissed, digging his claws into her this time.

“Wha?” she said, as though snapping out of a daze.

“It’s been a long night, kid.” Plagg said. “You need a long catnap.”

Adrianne nodded dazedly and almost robotically, she returned to her room.

Once certain his holder was asleep, Plagg went off in search for Tikki.

He thought he could handle it, he thought he could quell it before it got worse but he was wrong. He needed help and more importantly, at least Tikki needed to know about this.

But on the bright side…he might’ve just found a solution to all this as well.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“Hey sugar cube.” Plagg greeted.

“Hey stinky sock.” She joked back. “You alright?”

“Been better, been worse.” He wave off before turning serious. “You need to watch out for Mar, Tikki. Especially when he’s around Adrianne.”

“Why? What’s wrong with her? Is this about their argument?” she asked.

Plagg shook his head. “It’s worse than that. I’ve been trying to do what I can but….the kitten’s getting too unruly for me to rein in. The effects are getting stronger and even I can’t keep them at bay anymore.”

“But, you said she was still okay last time.” Tikki asked.

“It’s been three years already, Tikki. _Three years_. You and I both know she isn’t _the_ one. She just so happened to be the best candidate given the circumstance back at that time. She may be _a_ Black Cat, but she’s not _the_ Black Cat.

“Look, the effects aren’t that volatile and she won’t do anything too drastic….yet. I’m just giving you a heads-up to be on your guard.” He said.

“I will be.” She promised.

“Yeah…………..moving on, how’d the two lovebirds get along?” he asked.

“Amazingly well.” She said. Then her expression softened. “He’s happy, Plagg. I can see it. He hasn’t been this happy or relaxed in so long. He just seems content with her mere presence.”

Plagg nodded. “Makes sense….she is one of mine after all.”

“Yea- wait, what did you just say?” Tikki asked.

“I can feel it, Tikki. I _know_ it. She’s not just another Black Cat- chances are, she’s _the_ Black Cat.” Plagg said.

Tikki thought it over and…..in a way….Plagg was right.

It would explain how naturally they trusted one another; how they were at ease and willing to lower their barriers when around each other; the mutual respect, understanding and bond already accumulating between them, pulling them closer.

“She’s got what it takes, Tikki. You’ve seen her more than I have, you know it, I know it.” He said.

“…..we can’t tell Marcel.” She said firmly. “He’s happy and content with the way things are, I don’t want him to think any of this is fake or dictated by anyone or anything other than his own heart.”

“I know what you mean, sugar cube. Don’t worry, this kitty’s lips are sealed.” Plagg promised. “Sides, I’m happy that the kid managed to find someone too….someone better.”

“….what about you? Are you okay? Has Adrianne been treating you well?” Tikki asked.

“Other than make me wanna rip my own whiskers out? I’m good.” He said. “I better go now. Night, sugar cube.”

“Goodnight, Plagg.” She said, giving him a quick hug before going back to her holder.

Plagg begrudgingly did the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GGF stands for Gotham GirlFriend. Also, Auntie Harley and Isley make their appearance!  
> Alfred is the best wise grandpa of the family, you can't change my mind. Without him, the Bat Family would truly be in shambles. Batman is the brain keeping them functioning but Alfred is the heart.  
> Dahlia has made her stance and declared war. 😈Better watch out, Adrianne. The game is on!  
> And Dahlia has NO intention to lose.


	8. Fashion (Disaster); Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What was supposed to be a fun trip to the Gotham Museum of Fashion turns sour; Marcel discovers a dark connection Lila has and odds are stacked against him further when he finds him, Chris and his class stuck in the crossfire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Sexual harassment/ assault will be mentioned up ahead. Please read at your risk. I repeat, sexual harassment/ assault will be mentioned; DO NOT read if this is potentially triggering.

“Should we be worried?” Jason whispered to Tim for the fifth time that day.

“Honestly? I dunno but even I’m starting to get a little creeped out.” Tim whispered back, glancing over towards Dahlia.

A happy Dahlia.

A Dahlia who was actually _smiling._

“You’re positive it’s not a shape-shifter?” Jason asked, warily eyeing her.

“I’ve quadruple scanned her so yes, Jason, I am very positive.” Tim snapped.

“You sure there wasn’t a bug?” he asked.

“Are you doubting my program?” Tim asked, offended.

Jason shrugged. “You never know.”

Suddenly, Cass slid over, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. The quiet girl glanced towards Dahlia and then back at her two brothers, one eyebrow raised in question.

They both shrugged, none the wiser.

“…..weird.” was all she said before walking off to grab her own food.

* * *

“Should we be worried? It’s starting to get a bit creepy.” Alix whispered to Sabrina.

“Oh hush, let him have his moment.” Sabrina said.

Marcel had woken up bright and early in a bright mood and until now, the bright smile on his face hasn’t changed one bit……..it was starting to get a bit unsettling because damn it was _bright._

“Dude, do you want a permanent smile etched on your face? Gotham already has someone for that and it’s someone nobody ever wants to meet.” Chris said.

“I can’t help it! I mean, the sun is shining, the weather’s great, I went on a great date I’ll never forget last night with an amazing girlfriend and today we’re gonna go visit the Gotham Museum of Fashion!” Marcel listed off.

“You still haven’t given us all the deets bout your picnic. Also, Dahlia’s 100% been promoted to official girlfriend already?” Chris asked.

“Yup.” Marcel said without hesitation and more assertiveness than Chris has heard in a long time.

There was a sudden shriek of surprise and they all whipped their heads around, only to relax once they realized it was just Lila and her posse.

“Seriously?” Alya asked, bouncing in her seat.

“Sssh, keep it down, Al.” Lila said. “But yeah, Dahlia darling was so cool last night to help me sneak out and go clubbing with me. No alcohol of course. I even got to meet Marshmello. He was so chill and even let me help out with some DJing.”

Marcel snorted. Yeah, sure, Lila must’ve had tons of fun with Dahlia last night while he just so happened to have a picnic with her.

“Gurl, you have got to invite me next time! I’m starting to get worried you might replace me.” Alya joked.

‘It’s only a matter of time until she does just that, Alya. Trust me.’ He thought, deciding to go back to eating his breakfast before he lost his appetite.

“Hey, Marcel?” Sabrina asked, voice meeker.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Did you ask Dahlia what her family name is?” the bespectacled girl asked.

“Yeah, she already told me.” He said.

“Oh……………oh.” She repeated, her eyes wide. “So you know now?”

“Yea- wait, _you knew?!”_ he asked.

“Knew what?” Chris asked.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Marcel asked, ignoring Chris.

“It wasn’t my place to say! I thought she’d either tell you or you’d figure it out yourself.” Sabrina said.

“Uh hello? We’re not in the loop here.” Alix asked, getting their attention.

Marcel gestured for them to huddle closer. Glancing over his shoulder to make sure their classmates were sorely focused on Lila’s tall tales, he leaned forward and whispered in a voice just barely loud enough for them to hear.

“Her full name is Dahlia Wayne.” He whispered.

Silence……..

Then Chris began to tremble and the next thing Marcel knew, he was tossing his head back and howling with laughter.

Alix herself was doubled over as she laughed her ass off, banging the table and threatening to spill Marcel’s coffee.

“Oh my god- this is just too good!” Alix wheezed.

“Oh the irony!” Chris wheezed.

Ah yes, life truly is a melody filled with lyrics of pure irony at times.

But this irony was pure gold.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“Hey, you okay, dudette?” Nino asked, nudging a rather sullen looking Adrianne who barely touched her food.

“I’m fine, Nino.” The model lied.

She wasn’t fine. She was feeling horrible. No matter what she ate or drank, it all tasted bland in her tongue and curdled in her stomach like sour milk.

Even a night’s sleep couldn’t soothe the memory of what happened last night. Every word, every syllable, that had slithered around her heart and stung with such rawness just thinking about it made it spike.

Adrianne glanced over and saw Chris and Alix almost rolling on the floor in laugher while Marcel and Sabrina were chuckling amongst themselves in a more controlled manner. Evidently, Marcel must’ve cracked some kind of inside joke.

She wished she could be inside _that_ loop instead of this one.

She scowled when she recalled the black haired girl who was seriously starting to become the bane of her life since she’s come to Gotham.

_“You’re not his friend either. Memory serves, you jumped off that boat back at Wayne Industries already.”_

What would she know about her friendship with Marcel? As if she could understand the fact that Marcel was one of the first friends she made other than Chris- she cared for him! Yeah, maybe she was a bit harsh with him that day but it’s not like she could sugarcoat the truth and coddle him. Someone had to tell him to stop causing them so much unnecessary hassle.

_“It’s not worth my happiness, you’re not worth my happiness.”_

Those words squeezed her heart and nearly brought her to tears. Marcel had been so cold, it _burned_. That wasn’t like him- Marcel was never like that! He was always as radiant and warm as the sun, even on gloomy days.

That damn girl must’ve been the one to teach him that tactic- to taint his warmth and mold it into her perfect twisted icy liking.

_“No, you listen you infidel.” “Someone of your caliber isn’t worthy of standing beside him as a significant equal.”_

Infidel? _Isn’t worthy?!_ What the hell did she know about her! She was an Agreste, she had a clean record, capable skills and received the best education long before she actually went to school- she can defend herself and others with her karate and fencing; she knows Chinese as well as French; she can play the piano and she knows a thing or two about the business world, especially fashion just like Marcel!

Hell, she's a bloody superhero for crying out loud! One of the superheroes of Paris! Partner to Red Beetle!

What did that Gothamite Girl have in comparison to her?

God, that girl has been bad news since she’s showed up. Antagonizing her homeroom teacher, Alya, Lila and herself; making the rift between Marcel, her and the class widen further beyond repair; always sticking her nose into their class when their business has nothing to do with her! How does she even find them- why does she even bother going to such lengths to torment them?!

“Damn it.” She hissed under her breath, viciously stabbing a sausage on her plate. “Damn her to hell.”

Lila noticed Adrianne’s sour mood but didn’t really care. Obviously the model was still pissy over her little spat with Marcel. Good. This can definitely work for her.

True, Adrianne was definitely a valuable asset in her empire and a capable ally but really, that girl was a broken weed under all those perfect petals. She’s a porcelain doll that wasn’t made for the brutality of the real world but still, she can recognize her appeal. No wonder Marcel had once taken an interest in her.

Emphasis on the _‘once’_ ; as in _past_ tense.

Lila wasn’t surprised though. Of course a man like Marcel would’ve opened his eyes sooner or later and see how Adrianne wasn’t capable of keeping up with him.

But unfortunately, the French-Asian boy still absolutely stubbornly refused to budge towards her even after everything she’s done, everything she’s _proven!_

All his friends- even his own homeroom teacher and the principle- had turned their backs on him at the drop of a hat! Even Alya, his so-called now ex-BFF and Kim and Nino who were his childhood friends! All he had were those three losers-Sabrina, Chris and Alix.

Yet, he still seems so _happy._

It was starting to get frustrating. Marcel wasn’t gaining any ground and he wasn’t going to anytime soon with such a pathetic puny force like that backing him up but she wasn’t gaining ground either and frankly, she was starting to lose her patience.

But that’s okay. She can wait. She was a Queen and queens had to be patient enough to build her empire and reinforce their rule. Every queen needed a king and to gain one would need just as much patience.

She glanced down towards the cuff bracelets, a small…..gift courtesy of one of her _'connections'._

In the end, it didn’t matter. She was a queen.

And queens _always_ get what they want.

No matter what.

* * *

“Do I have to do this?” Stephanie grumbled.

“Oh stop whining, not like you gotta suffer in silence. Why else would you have dragged my butt here with you?” Harper huffed, rolling her eyes.

“Oh come now, girls, it’s not that bad. And besides, the two of you look lovely!” Selina said.

There was going to be an unveiling of some fancy-smanchy gown in the Gotham Museum of Fashion and of course, Bruce Wayne had been one of the sponsors of the whole shebang so of course they extended an invite to him.

Unfortunately, he had to attend to other ‘business’ so he decided to send Selina and Stephanie in his place. Not wanting to suffer alone, the latter managed to convince Harper to tag along by reminding her that she owed her a favor.

Harper thankfully was allowed to wear a simple blouse and pants instead of some dress which was so not her style. Unlike Harper, Stephanie was wearing a floral printed shift dress with a bolero jacket. Selina was wearing a halter sheath dress which showed off her voluptuous figure.

“How come Cass didn’t have to come again?” Harper asked.

“She’s helping the Big Bats dig up more dirt on that trafficking ring.” Stephanie said.

Upon entering the museum, Stephanie noticed a group of students- most likely foreigners- were also there-

Wait a sec.

“Stephanie?” Selina asked when she noticed the girl wasn’t walking with them anymore.

“Is that who I think it is?” Stephanie asked, pointing towards the class or more specifically, a raven-haired boy who was standing at the very back of the group.

“Well, what are the odds?” Selina remarked, surprised.

“Sorry but I’m lost, who’re you talking about?” Harper asked.

“See the kid with the raven blue hair?” Stephanie asked, discreetly pointing towards Marcel. “That’s Dali’s boyfriend.”

Harper’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Shut the front door. For real?” she asked.

Stephanie grinned. Things just got a whole lot interesting. Looks like wearing this dress and dragging herself here wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

For the sixth time, Chris once again scanned the room, looking for a familiar black-haired girl only to be disappointed when his search yielded no results.

“Looking for something in particular?” Sabrina asked.

“A certain black-haired Gothamite Girl.” He said ruefully.

“Come on, Chris. You really think she’s gonna just show up all the time?” she asked.

“Hey, once is happenstance, twice is circumstance and three means action. That girl’s a girl of action so I wouldn’t be surprised if she did show up somehow.” Chris pointed out.

“You sound so paranoid.” Sabrina said.

“We are still in Gotham, can you blame me?” he said.

As usual, Marcel’s nose were buried in his sketchbook and at this point, Chris wouldn’t be surprised if the pencil merged with his fingers considering how intently he was sketching away at the numerous displays surrounding them.

Mannequins were displayed in numerous poses to enunciate their outfits, each one set atop a small platform or kept in pristine condition free of lint or dust in a vacuum-sealed glass case. The accessories and jewelry adorning their fingers, necks, ankles and ears glinted like small stars under the lighting.

Some were vintage and retro while some were old as in Victorian era old. Some were modern and trendy while some were bombastic and futuristic. Some were casual while some were classy; some were bright and bold while some were cool and mellow- it really was just one whole world of masterpieces and art in here.

“How the hell can anyone walk in those kinda shoes?” Alix asked, scrunching her nose at a pair of ocean-themed lobster heels.

“People who are trained to walk in them.” Chris answered as though it were obvious.

“I pity them. And I thought military boot camp was harsh.” Alix muttered.

“Well, there’s also wedge booties.” Marcel said, still not taking his eyes off his sketchbook.

“Of course, Betsey and I always chat whenever we can. I’m the one who helps her decide which colours would truly pop on her outfits! She even asked for my opinion on the shades she should use for her Spring 2016 Runway. You could say I’m like her colour palette.” Lila went on, spinning another connection.

“Wow, muse of the Agreste Brand and Betsey Johnson? I’m surprised you’re not part of the display here yourself.” Alya said, soaking it all up as always.

“Who knows? Maybe someday, I will.” Lila preened.

“Oh! Maybe you can convince her to make a fashion line with a bit more pink!” Rose squealed excitedly.

Lila hummed as though in consideration. “Maybe I will.” She sweetly li- _said,_ sweetly said _._

Their tour guide- a woman in her 30s named Abby according to her nametag- looked ready to snap. Just like back at Wayne Industries Lila has not shut up since arriving and at this point, Marcel worried their tour guide might get an aneurism.

She definitely deserved a raise after this.

“Excuse me, Miss.” Abby said, pulling Mme. Bustier aside to talk, trying to keep her voice level. “Can you kindly tell that student of yours to pipe down? She’s interrupting the tour.”

“Oh, let her have her fun. She’s just excited.” Mme. Bustier said.

“Excitement or not, this is a museum. It’s not a playground and she must behave as such.” Abby said firmly.

“She’s a child. They’re supposed to be excited so they’re willing to learn! Are you saying I should ruin her interest? She is passionate on being a model.” Mme. Bustier said.

“This isn’t about her personal interests, it’s about her manners. You’re her teacher, can’t you just do your job and ask her to at least tone it down a bit?” God, her boss owed her a raise for this crap.

Lila noticed the tour guide pull Mme. Bustier aside and frowned when she picked up the barely restrained annoyance the former had. Well, if she thought Lila was such an annoyance…..

Marcel’s pencil nearly ruined his sketch when a sudden wail pierced the air. He tensed, ready to jump into action-

Only to see a ‘distressed’ Lila.

…………she really gives the Boy Who Cried Wolf a bad name.

“It’s ripped!” the Italian wailed, gesturing to a rip on the back of the– in Marcel’s frank fashion opinion- horrendous apricot orange blouse she was wearing.

“Oh dear.” Mme. Bustier said. “Don’t worry, Lila, it’s not that bad.”

“This blouse was given to me personally by Caroline Herrera! I promised her I’d take care of it!" Lila sobbed.

Marcel raised an unimpressed eyebrow. As if Caroline Herrera would ever play a hand in creating a disaster like that.

“Uh…does anyone have any extra clothing with them? A jacket?” Bustier fumbled. Then her eyes landed on Marcel and she perked up.

“Uh oh.” Chris said when he noticed.

“Here it comes….” Sabrina said, bracing herself.

“Marcel! You have your emergency sewing kit with you, right?” Bustier asked, her smile and voice too cheerful for Marcel’s liking.

He shrugged and looked away apathetically. This wasn’t his problem, why should he care?

“Marcel, it’s a yes no question.” Bustier asked again, smile tighter now.

“Maybe she can buy another shirt from the gift shop.” He suggested.

“But the cloth might be bad for my skin! What if my contact dermatitis acts up again?” Lila whined.

“God, Marcel, stop being so lazy and help her already!” Alya snapped.

“Miss, calm down, you’re making a scene.” Abby tried to placate.

“Fine!” Marcel snapped, throwing his hands up. “Fine, I’ll help fix your blouse.” He gritted out.

“You would?” Lila sniffled.

“That’s what I said, didn’t I?" Marcel huffed, crossing his arms.

“Marcel!” Bustier scolded.

“Where are the restrooms?” Marcel asked Abby.

“They’re under repairs in this wing but the changing rooms are still available. Turn left over there and walk straight down.” She replied.

“Thank you, Abby.” He said politely. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Not bothering to see if she followed, Marcel briskly walked towards the changing rooms, hands stuffed in his pockets, wanting to get this over with already.

He stiffened when he felt a hand wrap around his like a python, another body leaning a bit too close, pressing into his personal space, sending a shudder across his skin.

“I knew you’d come around, Marcel.” Lila purred.

“Please stop clinging to me. It’s uncomfortable.” He said, trying to ignore the unease in his stomach. God, please don’t tell him she’s going to-

“Sure it is~” Lila purred, her nails lightly dragging across his bicep, leaving prickling goosebumps in their wake.

“I’m serious. Stop that and get the hell off. I’m not your arm candy.” He hissed, trying to jerk his arm away only for her to tighten her grip and bury her nails into him.

The small purple gemstones on her cuff bracelets glowed an ominous purple for a brief moment. A purple and black mass oozing within the seemingly unassuming dazzle.

“I’d watch it if I were you. You’re a big boy and I’m a distressed girl in a ripped blouse. One scream and well….not the prettiest picture.” She said with a smug smirk.

Her satisfaction increased when she saw the thin line his hard pressed lips formed, the slight frown furrowing his brows and defiant bluebell eyes burning with barely restrained anger but frustration, knowing _she_ was the one in charge here.

Unbeknownst to them, Selina picked up their conversation and was instantly on alert. She was fluent in French and knew the signs, the symptoms, the _warnings_ , the underlying threats that girl was telling Marcel and if his tense body language was anything to go by.....

Briefly excusing herself from her conversation with one of the Gotham Elitist models, she leaned over to Stephanie and Harper.

“I have a mission for you two. Follow Marcel.” She said.

“Wha- why do you want us to stalk him?” Stephanie asked. Even she wouldn’t stoop that low and Dahlia would kill them if-

“That girl with him. I don’t trust her and I think she might try to do something… _unsavory_ to Marcel.” She said.

Harper’s eyes widened as she got the meaning.

“Oh $hit.” She cursed. “Come on, Steph.” She said, pulling the blonde girl along.

“Where’s Dahlia when you need her?” Stephanie muttered, shaking her head.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The changing rooms were empty. All the stalls were vacant and Marcel wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing. It meant he was stuck in here with Lila without any witnesses.

“Go into the changing room, take your blouse off and pass it to me. I’ll fix it while you wait in there.” Marcel sighed.

“But Marcel, my wrist, my arthritis.” Lila whined with a pout, clutching her ‘hurt’ wrist. “I can’t strain it, that’ll pull the muscles and make it worse.”

Marcel raised an eyebrow. “You know that much but you don’t know enough that you need a splint to prevent it from swelling up- oh wait, that won’t happen cuz your wrist is _perfectly fine_.” He sighed. “You want me to help or not?”

“You can help me alright.” She purred, coming too close for comfort, placing her hands on his chest, prickling his goosebumps.

“I’m here to help fix your blouse, not be your boy toy.” He hissed, yanking her hands away and stepping away in disgust.

“Why Marcel, how could you be so mean?” she asked with fake sniffles.

Marcel shook his head. Oh screw it, Lila can throw a tantrum and Mme. Bustier can lecture his ass off for all he cared, this isn’t worth it-

“Where do you think you’re going?” Lila asked, seizing his wrist, her nails digging into his skin. Her olive green eyes were narrowed dangerously now, the fake tears gone.

“Away from you.” He hissed, trying to yank his arm out-

Her grip tightened and he hissed again, this time in pain.

His eyes widened when he felt her grip tighten to the point her nails dug, threatening to cut his skin and holy shit, he actually felt his blood circulation cut off- how the hell is she this strong-

The next thing he knew, she’d yanked both of them into a stall and she’d slam him against the wall hard enough he felt the breath get knocked out of him. She grabbed his shoulders and her fingertips dug deep enough to hurt and she kept him pinned against the wall.

It was then he saw the glint in her eyes- dangerous and deadset and lustful and malevolent and it was directed at _him,_ oh god, she was going to do it _again_ , she was going to-

“Get off me!” he cried, panic filling his entire being. He gripped her hands and jerked his head forward, head butting her.

She released a cry of pain and stumbled back. Marcel surged forward towards the door but then a hand reached out and grabbed his hair. Yanking back hard, he was once again thrown against the wall and Lila pounced.

She placed both hands on either side of him and leaned in close, pressed too close to his body that he could feel her breath against his face and the heat from her body that made him want to douse himself in boiling water until his skin turned raw.

He was cornered, he was _trapped._

‘How the hell is she this strong?!’ he thought.

He knew Lila had little to no physical strength- hell, he should be able to beat her in a fight with one of his hands tied behind his back! So how is she-

Something glinted and his eyes saw the cuff bracelets she wore. Actually now that he thought about it…hasn’t she been wearing those since they first left Paris?

“Like my new bling?” Lila asked. “A little reward given to me by a good friend of mine.” She purred.

Marcel pressed himself against the wall and wished he could somehow merge with it just to get away from her and-

Wait….something was wrong, something wasn’t right- the bracelets! It was the damn cuff bracelets, that’s how-

He gave the cuff bracelets a once over and sure enough, embedded on the silverwork were small purple stones that could easily pass off as amethyst but Marcel wasn’t fooled because he could feel the corruption oozing within it.

And if he looked close enough at the opalescent silver? He could make out the shape of a butterfly.

“How-” he gasped- something was wrong, he felt weak, his body felt numb and as heavy as weight, he wanted to cry for help but the words died on his tongue, his mind was struggling to think straight and he wanted to run but he can’t, he’s trapped, he can’t get out, he’s trapped, he’s helpless, he’s _trapped-_

“Why struggle Marcel?” she cooed, caressing his face and god, he wanted to bite her fingers off. “Why do you insist on playing hard to get? Just be a good boy and accept it already.”

‘Move…..MOVE!’ His mind was screaming at him to do something, hell, even transform right then and there but his body refused to cooperate and the pain and numbness and fear were _suffocating_ him.

“I’ll forgive this little transgression.” She purred in his ear. “If you don’t resist.”

She nipped his ear and he jerked his head away but then she moved down and now she was at his neck and her hands were slipping under his shirt and it felt like a red hot poker was scalding his skin- stop it, stop it, _stop touching him, don’t touch him, get away from him, stop it!_

“GET AWAY FROM HIM, YOU SKANK!”

Marcel gasped and suddenly he could breathe again without feeling as though an iron ball was being shoved down his throat. He felt tears spring to his eyes from relief because she was away from him, her hands weren’t violating him anymore.

He dully heard someone trying to talk to him, console him, ground him. Turning around, he saw a girl older than him with blonde hair and blue eyes like Chris. She was near him but maintained enough distance so she wasn’t too close, lest he lash out in panic.

“It’s not what it looks like!” Lila blurted out, instantly turning on the fake tears. “He was forcing himself onto me and-”

“Bullshit.” Harper snarled, grabbing the collar of her blouse so tight she was sure she’d get another tear in it. “We saw it all, we heard every disgusting word that came outta that mouth of yours. Shut yer trap or I’ll make you. Try me, bitch.”

“I’ll scream!” Lila threatened.

“Go ahead, it’ll save us the trouble.” Harper grinned, daring her to make a peep.

“LILA, YOU SICK BI- the hell did I miss?” Chris skidded to a stop and took in the scene before him, a bit confused but also satisfied.

Currently, a rather intimidating older girl with a blue and purple undercut and a nose piercing- she looked pretty hardcore badass- was gripping Lila’s collar and looked ready to rip the sausage-haired liar a new one. Nearby, there was a door left widely ajar with two figures inside-an older blonde girl and someone else.

He stepped forward and his eyes landed on the still shocked Marcel. His body was trembling, his eyes wide but glazed over unfocused, his skin pale and- holy crap, were those bruises on his wrists?!

He instantly acted.

“Mar? Hey….it’s me, Chris.” He said, voice gentle and movements methodical like he was dealing with a scared animal.

Stephanie noticed the familiarity between them and assumed this must be a friend of Marcel’s. She respectfully moved away to let him handle the situation.

“I’m here. No one’s gonna hurt you. Can I help?” he asked.

“Get her away from me.” Marcel hissed.

“Okay, okay, she’s gone now.” He glanced towards Harper who sure enough was dragging a feebly struggling Lila away. The blonde girl was standing outside, keeping guard but she was a respectful distance away.

“Can I help?” he asked.

“I….I…she-she was going to-I couldn’t, I was so-” his breathing came faster and faster and he was starting to hyperventilate, making Chris panic even more himself because _merde_ , that is not a good sign.

“Breathe, Marcel. I’m right here. Together now, come on, 1….deep breath….hold it in….2......3, let it out, that’s it. Follow my count, 1….2….3….let it out. 1.…2.…3.…let it out, you’re doing great. 1….2.…3….out we go.”

Slowly, Marcel’s breathing slowed down to a normal rate and his body stopped trembling. His eyes gained more clarity and he seemed to have some control over his situational awareness again.

“Chris?” he asked, voice hoarse and small.

“I’m here, man.” He reassured him, he reached out to put a hand on his shoulder but Marcel reared back as if stung and smacked his hand away.

“Okay, no touching. I understand.” Chris said, putting his hands up in a placating gesture.

“Sorry, just-I-”

“It’s okay. Take your time. I’ll wait, kay?” Chris said. “Gather your thoughts and once you’re ok to get back on your feet, let me know.”

Chris hoped his own nerves didn’t show as he waited for the seconds to tick by which did so at an agonizingly slow rate. Each second agitated him and goddamn it, he wished Dahlia could be here to help him calm Marcel down.

“Hey….” Relief surged through him at that simple word said by Marcel.

“You feel….better now?” Chris asked.

“Good enough.” Marcel said, giving him a weak smile. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank your little red guardian spirit. She’s the one who warned me.” He said with a wink.

Marcel made a mental note to bake a mountain of cookies and macaroons for Tikki when he got back.

“We should go back to the class now.” Marcel said, stepping forward.

“Oh no. No no no, nuh-uh, no way, no. Negative. You are not going back there.” Chris said firmly.

“Chris, I’m fine.” Marcel insisted.

“Lie-la’s there and there’s no way in hell I’m letting her get her hands on you again.” Chris said.

“I can handle her-” Marcel paused when he suddenly remembered a very crucial detail.

The cuff bracelets.

_“A little reward given to me by a good friend of mine.”_

Oh god………oh god….holy shit, _oh god!_

He’s always had his suspicions, he’s always wondered how the coincidences could line up so conveniently like that and he had lowered his guard and let himself get complacent and because of that, he missed such an obvious sign, such a huge ass warning signal that had been blaring right smack at his face this whole time.

“Mar?” Chris asked, worried.

“I’m an idiot.” He hissed, grabbing his hair. “God, I’m such a fu$king idiot!”

“Marcel, what are you talking about?” Chris asked.

“Lila. She’s working for Hawkmoth.” He said.

“Considering how many akumas she’s caused? She might as well be.” He huffed but then jerked in surprise when Marcel surged forwards and grabbed the collars of his jacket in a death-grip, his eyes wide and almost hysterical.

“No, Chris, she’s working for Hawkmoth, she’s working _with_ him! Those cuff bracelets she’s been wearing, they were akumatized somehow and they gave her powers, they were just lying dormant inside her all this time without us knowing it!” Marcel hissed.

“What?!” Chris said, his eyes almost bulging out of his skull. “Are you saying we’ve had a fu$king akuma amongst us the whole ass time we’ve been in Gotham? Right there beside us, sleeping under the same hotel as us?!”

“Yes!” Marcel confirmed. “She managed to overpower me and sapped my strength, numbed me, weakened me and made me utterly helpless. I was practically a prisoner in my own body.”

“Fu$k.” Chris hissed under his breath. “Fu$king fuck.” He hissed again.

“Please tell me you’ve got a plan.” Chris said. “I mean, we are already in the changing rooms so you think you could do what you need to and summon a Lucky Charm already?”

“Not now, Chris. We can’t just rush in without a plan-”

Marcel was cut off as the sounds of an explosion reverberated through the air. Even from the changing rooms, they heard the concrete crumble like biscuits and glass shatter.

Then there were screams.

And then chaos erupted.

Marcel and Chris burst out of the changing rooms and barely stopped in time to avoid being overrun by the mob of panicked humans who were screaming and crying and shouting and overall, in hysteria.

A red blast whizzed overhead and the crowd screamed, flinching in fear and ducking down.

“SILENCE!” a voice boomed.

Marcel and Chris instinctively pressed themselves against the walls, out of sight. Swallowing, Marcel took his phone out and held it out so he could see who they were dealing with.

Even from the reflection alone, he could instantly make out the poker card theme of each member. There were a good few goons there, all of them herding all the hostages into one area but five stood out; A king, a queen, a jack, an ace and a ten.

The Royal Flush Gang.

“On the floor! Not a word!”

Instantly, the numerous civilians complied, going down to their knees or sitting on the floor, some huddled together in groups in desperate need of reassurance. The few guards who had tried to take them on were carelessly dumped into a pile, unconscious- Marcel prayed they were _just_ unconscious.

“Well fu$k.” Chris repeated once more.

“This day just keeps getting better and better.” Marcel muttered bitterly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY MARCEL.  
> I HATED writing this but I had to for the sake of the plot. Like I mentioned in the tags, Lila is EVIL and she plays a bigger role in villainy than you all think. At this point, she's like what Marcel said before- a villain without a costume.  
> Originally, Marcel had thought she was simply like Canon Chloe- a horrible mean person who put people down and made them feel bad, thus resulting in akumas. Not to mention Lila was -unfortunately- not akumatized too many times afterwards. The few times she was, she had a petty but valid enough reason for it.  
> Hawkmoth gave her the bracelet because she managed to convince him that she'll need it as they'll be in a dangerous place like Gotham and she would need it to protect herself and her 'bestie' Adrianne.  
> I promise things will only get worse for a short while before they get better.


	9. Fashion (Disaster); Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red Beetle teams up with Catwoman, Batgirl and Bluebird to take down the Royal Flush Gang.  
> Oh, and Dahlia plots murder, nothing new there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There have been numerous versions/reincarnations of the Royal Flush Gang throughout DC. So in order to prevent confusion, the Royal Flush Gang that appears in here are the ones from Justice League Doom.  
> PS sorry for not updating lately as my exams just finished and I'm....getting my results.....yeah. That plus a bit of writer's block left me hanging. Hope you enjoy the chapter!

Stephanie’s heard of the saying wrong time, wrong place lots of times in her life. Hell, she’s living proof of said metaphor being truer than people think.

She’s come to philosophically accept it and _hate it_ for being a real pain in the ass.

Like right now.

God, she didn’t know which one was worse- having to deal with a grade-A bitch who lies as much as she breathes or actual criminals like the Royal Flush Gang who seemed to have learned enough from past encounters to hire extra help.

“What’s the plan?” Harper whispered to her.

“Uh, we blow these guys to the discard pile?” Stephanie asked.

“Did you seriously just say that?” Harper deadpanned at the pun.

“I’ve always wanted to say that.” Stephanie said shamelessly.

“You two! Zip it!” a goon said, jerking a gun in their direction, prompting them to duck their heads down docilely.

As Selina’s eyes scanned the room full of hostages however, she couldn’t help but notice the absence of a certain raven-haired boy. And last she heard, he was left in the dressing rooms with a friend of his, not to mention none of the goons have seemed to check that area yet……………..hm………

They might have an ace up their sleeve yet.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous.” Chris said, warily glancing back out, body tensed ready for a goon with a gun to find out about them at any moment. “And I thought akumas had horrible fashion sense.”

“Don’t let the gimmicks fool you. In case you didn’t know, their Ace is a force to be reckoned with.” Marcel said.

Now he was glad he had sacrificed a good few nights of sleep and a majority of the plane trip to study more about Gotham’s Rogues. These guys may not be on the same level as Joker but he was never one to push his luck.

“Duh, he’s literally called Ace. Ace up their sleeve, I know metaphors too.” Chris said with an eye roll. Marcel noticed his friend’s hand subconsciously close around his disguised miraculous.

He bit his lip. He had to make a choice. His classmates were out there and they were probably scared out of their minds. Sure they’ve been in hostage situations before with akumas but those were different, these were _actual_ villains with legit experience.

His heart was screaming at him to transform already and that his conscience will never forgive him if he doesn’t _do something_ but his brain was reminding him of the fact that like he said, these weren’t akumas and he could risk blowing their cover and letting Hawkmoth know that Paris were down two heroes; one of them being the _only one_ who can purify akumas no less.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He had to calm down. Right now, he needed to keep an open clear mind to see the full picture from all angles. Prioritize, take it step by step as efficiently and smartly as possible.

‘Get out. We have to get out.’ He realized.

Even if they did transform, no way could they just charge into the open towards the Royal Flush Gang and try to brawl their way out. They were outnumbered and there were hostages at stake.

Slowly, his eyes scanned the dressing rooms and gradually rose to find….a ventilation shaft grille.

Bingo.

“Chris, give me a boost.” He said.

Chris blinked but complied. As soon as he saw the ventilation shaft grille, he instantly understood and smirked.

“Good thinking James Bond.” He joked.

And thus, that was how they found themselves trying to crawl their way through the ventilation shaft………..it would’ve been badass if it weren’t so dusty.

“This place seems older than any of the Victorian clothing back at the museum.” Chris coughed.

“I feel like a turkey roll.” Marcel grumbled in agreement.

“Don’t make me hungry. We don’t need to add more onto our plate.” Chris said.

By some miracle, they saw narrow lines of light on the grille up ahead. One good kick later and they were out in the open, on a rooftop. The two boys dusted themselves off.

“This was brand new.” Chris grumbled, straightening his jacket.

Marcel ignored him and decided to focus on thinking of their next course of action. They were out of the danger zone, now what? They call the GCPD?

“Too bad it’s still daytime. Otherwise we could’ve used the Bat Signal.” Chris half-joked though deep down, he hoped the Dark Knight himself would actually show up.

“And I don’t exactly have his cell number.” Marcel added grimly.

Chris sighed and ran a hand through his blonde hair, still laced with dust.

“God, isn’t this a clusterfu$k of a disaster.” He hissed.

* * *

“You brought that with you to a fashion museum?!” Stephanie hissed.

“Yup.” Harper said, sounding pretty damn proud of herself. Stephanie could see that her hand was resting over the slight bump where her taser was. “Pays to be prepared.”

“Y’know, most girls would just settle for mace.” The blonde joked.

“I think I’ll stick with my claws.” Selina said, her manicure suddenly looking rather vicious and deadly from that perspective. “Ready to pounce, kitties?”

“On your mark.” Stephanie said, turning serious. Man, she wished she wasn’t wearing a goddamn dress though.

“Let’s do this.” Harper agreed, her taser ready.

Slowly, they edged closer and closer towards the exit, using the crowd as cover while expertly weaving around bodies. The green sign of the exit hovered by their vision, tantalizingly there, almost within reach.

Selina raised a hand, prompting them to stop. She waited until the goon finally turned his attention away from them before she motioned for them to continue.

It was only a moment. A window no bigger than a gap, really. But that gap was all they needed to slip past.

No eyes were on them, the attention was zeroed in on something else. The head honchos of the Royal Flush Gang were gradually making their rounds to collect the hostage’s valuables and the guards had let their guard down, seeing as to how they assume none of the hostages could put up any actual resistance.

How wrong they were.

Rising to a crouch, they swiftly dashed out of the room. Up ahead by the exit, a goon stood as a guard but was slacking off. Lazily leaning against the doorframe and smoking a cigarette.

He dropped it in surprise however when he suddenly saw a punkish-looking girl rush forward-

And sent hundreds of volts crackling through his body.

Harper cracked the door open with a grin, almost triumph while standing by the unconscious body of the goon guard.

“After you.” She said, with a grandiose bow.

* * *

“Tikki.” Marcel asked, letting the small goddess fly out. “You think you could modify the costume a bit?”

“What do you have in mind, Marcel?” she asked.

“You got a plan?” Chris asked.

Marcel nodded.

“I’m gonna disguise myself a bit- just throw in an extra cape or cloak or whatever so no one instantly knows its Red Beetle. On my signal, get back in there and make sure everyone gets out. Better if you throw in a disguise too if you’re gonna do it as your alter ego. I’ll distract them so you just focus on making sure no innocents get caught in the crossfire.

“I’ll just stall. I won’t face them head on if I don’t have to. Our main priority is to save the civilians and our class; we don’t have to foil the Royal Flush Gang’s heist. That’s Batman’s job.” He explained.

“Think you can do it?” Marcel asked Tikki again.

“No problem. Just picture what you have in mind.” Tikki instructed.

Marcel nodded and got to work.

“Tikki. Spots on!”

A flash of pink light later and Red Beetle stood there with a slightly modified outfit. The coattails were gone and instead he now wore a black coat with a hood over his outfit.

“A coat huh? Very noire.” Chris remarked.

Marcel shrugged before turning serious.

“Stay safe.” He said.

“Same to you.” Chris said. “Good luck.” He added before running off to search for a good entry point when he was needed.

‘I’m definitely gonna need that.’ Red Beetle thought before moving off to take stock of how far the situation’s escalated since he’s left.

What surprised him was to see Catwoman, Batgirl and another vigilante- Bluebird, if memory serves- on the rooftop, overlooking the situation.

Bluebird noticed movement in her peripheral vision and whipped around, her rail gun poised ready to shoot their would-be assailant-

“I mean no harm!” a voice with a notable French accent quickly said, putting his-obviously it was a male- hands out in a placating manner.

“It’s me.” The figure threw the hood back to reveal a raven haired boy with red highlights wearing a….red and black polka dotted masquerade mask? What the hell?

“Beetle? What are you doing here?” Batgirl asked. Oh, so this was the Paris hero guy Bats mentioned.

“My associate called. He managed to slip past them and call for help. Don’t worry, Marcel’s safe.” Red Beetle said.

Batgirl released a breath of relief. Had anything happened to him, she’s pretty sure Dahlia would have her head on a pike.

“Glad to have an extra pair of hands on deck.” Catwoman said. “Try to keep up.”

Red Beetle nodded. He could feel his heart beat faster, pumping nervous adrenaline throughout his body and damn, despite the dire situation the fact that he was about to kick butt beside Gotham’s infamous heroine vigilantes was pretty darn badass if he said so himself.

Down below, the rest of his classmates weren’t able to see things in the same light as him.

Especially a certain Italian girl.

Lila fumed, annoyed that out of all the rogues in Gotham, a group of petty burglars in such ridiculous gimmicks had to be the ones she’d have to cow to. It was even worse by the fact that her blouse still wasn’t fixed!

The worse part of all was how moments ago, she had Marcel right where she wanted but then those two Gothamite girls just had to poke their nose into what was none of their business!

God, she was starting to hate Gothamite girls.

One of them- a horrendous punkish girl- had the audacity to scream in her face. Oh if Lila sees her face again, she’ll make that girl rue the day she was borned and rip that stupid nose piercing of hers out personally just to spite her.

She glanced down at her cuff bracelets, the gears in her mind working. Maybe....maybe this can work in her favor after all. After all, these were given to her by Hawkmoth personally and she’s seen firsthand the amount of power they contain- maybe she can turn one of her tales into reality, she can become an actual hero! One better than that pathetic bug, Red Beetle by taking down a Gotham Rogue.

Behind her, Adrianne’s eyes roamed about the room, her heart in her throat. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t nervous because gosh darn it, this wasn’t Paris and there was no Red Beetle; thus there was _no Miraculous Cure!_

Akumas were bad enough, she didn’t want to think about the lengths an actual villain who’s been at the gig for years would go to.

Her hand clenched into a fist, her ring glinting to remind her of the powers she wielded but…..a small voice in her head reminded her of Marcel’s words, his warnings.

But weren’t the circumstances already dire enough? Surely he wouldn’t blame her if she broke the rules for the greater good of saving their classmates?

Unfortunately, that also brought another set of problems- how could she do so? She’d have to slip past the guards in order to transform which was a challenge in itself considering how many people were crammed into a single area. With so many bodies there was constricted range of movement and more obstacles to get caught in the crossfire should things really go south.

She glanced over her classmates-

Wait.

Her eyes scanned the numerous nervous faces of her classmates and her stomach dropped when she noticed two in particular were absent.

 _Mon dieu_ , where the hell were Marcel and Chris?!

Adrianne mentally kicked herself when she suddenly remembered that earlier on, Marcel hadn’t returned with Lila. Actually, the Italian girl had been dragged here by a punkish-looking girl who looked ready to deck Lila.

And before that, she should’ve noticed Chris slip away from their class, no doubt to look for Marcel.

Great, just great. They were in a hostage situation and she just lost sight of two of her most precious friends. Nice going, kitty, great job at protecting the innocent!

God if only Red Beetle were here….he’d know what to do; he’d be able to come up with a plan in a jiffy.

“Hurry people, we’re on a timetable here.” King ordered.

“Hey boss, we just gonna up and leave after we got the loot?” Ten asked.

King hummed in thought, his eyes trailing over the horde of hostages they had. No doubt the Bats will be on their tail once they’re gone. Maybe it’s best if they had a little leverage even after they’ve moved out.

“Grab three of em. We’ll drop em once we’re halfway there.” He ordered.

“Let me go!” Adrianne’s eyes widened when one of the goons roughly seized Rose.

“No!” Juleka cried standing up. “Let her go, please!” she begged.

“Quiet you!” the goon snapped, harshly shoving her back. Nathaniel caught her, said redhead looking pale and trembling, utterly helpless as one of his best friends was snatched away from them.

“Jules, don’t be stupid.” He hissed to her. He had to keep at least one of them safe.

Lila saw that this was it. Poor Rose in distress and in need of saving. This was her moment to shine!

“Hey! Let her go you bully!” she said, boldly standing up.

‘Lila, what are you doing?!’ Adrianne mentally hissed. Kwami’s sake, now she really wanted to pull her hair out!

“Or else what?” the goon sneered.

“Or I’ll make you regret it.” Lila said, chin held high confidently.

“Yeah! Show em, gurl!” Alya cheered on.

Nino just stared at her as though questioning her sanity and really, who could blame him?

Lila reared her hand back and punched the goon. Much to everyone’s shock, it actually seemed effective as said goon stumbled back.

Queen however, merely tched and shook her head, unimpressed.

“Ace, be a dear and take care of this pheasant.” She said.

“Pheasant?! How dare you! I’m a descendant of an Italian ambassador!” Lila snapped, nose raised haughtily.

“Really now?” Queen smirked. “Then you’ll make a fine hostage. Ace.”

The towering white android menacingly advanced towards Lila. She almost stepped back as he came closer and she realized he was a lot bigger up close.

Regardless, she reared her hand back and punched him in the chest. Rearing the other back she landed four more punches.

Nothing.

Barely even a dent on the white plating.

Her fists trembled- whether from shock or fear or pain because she just punched solid metal for crying out loud- and her eyes slowly trailed up to see Ace almost smirking like a cat that caught a downed canary.

His hand- which was bigger than her head- grabbed both her wrists in one grip and hauled her up as though she was as light as a feather.

‘Why isn’t it working?! Come on you stupid pieces of metal!’ she screamed.

Why weren’t the cuff bracelets working?! This ape brute should be writhing on the floor, utterly weak and helpless as she sapped away his strength! How is he still standing with that level of strength?!

Wait…..he’s a robot………..does that mean……

With a sinking stomach, she belatedly realized that her bracelet’s draining abilities only worked on _organic_ beings.

“Let me go!” she screeched, panic beginning to surge through her when she realized that _merda,_ this was a horrible idea.

“Not so high and mighty now, are ya?” Ten mocked. “Wanna see what happens to sausages on the grill up close?”

She raised her hands up and they glowed with purple energy, radiating menacingly close to the Italian girl.

“If you lay one finger on me, the Italian Embassy will have your heads!” she snarled.

Adrianne and even Nino face-palmed. Way to give them even more leverage!

“A diplomat’s daughter?” King mused. “Interesting.”

“Looks like we’ve found our three hostages.” Jack said.

Lila’s eyes widened and her struggled became more frantic. Realizing her bestie was in serious danger, Alya stood up defiantly.

“Hey! Let her go!” she yelled, slamming her fists against Ace. It was useless as her hits barely fazed the hulking android.

“Enough heroics young miss or your friend here will pay an arm and a leg for your stupidity.” King hissed.

Lila squealed as Ace’s grip tightened further, the metal plating pressing against her skin, the pressure making itself known against her bones- _oh dio_ , her arms are going to break-

Crack!

It wasn’t her bones.

It was her cuff bracelets.

Then there was a crash.

And too many things happened at once.

Adrianne’s head shot up as the skylight above them shattered, glass shards reflecting like small pieces of crystal scattered about.

People screamed and cried in shock, instinctively flinching or rearing back, raising their arms as though to protect them from a death blow that might strike next.

None of them noticed the black and purple butterfly that fluttered out from Lila’s cuff bracelets, squeezing past Ace’s hands.

Red Beetle did.

His yoyo whipped out and caught it.

Just as he pulled it back into his hand, bullets were hone in on him and the rest of the Bat members with him.

“Get them!” King ordered.

Red Beetle leaped out of the way, taking cover behind a giant model of a leather bag with Catwoman. He glanced to the side and saw Bluebird firing back in retaliation. Batgirl brazenly rolled out from her cover to throw three batarangs at the goons, all three hitting their mark.

He separated his yoyo into two and took a deep breath before he ran out from his cover, spinning his yoyo to block the bullets. Whipping one yoyo out, he wrapped it around two goons.

He yanked them down, at the same time crouching low and pivoting to avoid the other bullets still headed his way. With a flick of his wrist, his other yoyo shot out and wrapped itself around another goon’s legs, tripping him.

‘Red Beetle?! Here?!’ a good few classmates in the French class though, recognizing the yoyos and knowing only one hero who could’ve been capable of utilizing them so adeptly.

Catwoman’s whip flicked like a viper’s tongue and curled like a ribbon, dispatching goons left and right while Bluebird provided cover fire. Batgirl had taken to close quarter combat, using her quarterstaff to swiftly knock out the goons.

Soon, only the main Royal Flush Gang was left.

“You really can’t find good help these days.” Batgirl mocked with a smirk.

“Stand back or this girl gets squeezed like a grape.” King threatened, pointing to Ace who stepped forward, a squirming Lila still in his grip.

“Go ahead.” Bluebird said with a shrug.

And she looked like she honest to god didn’t give a damn.

Everyone stared at her; the French class and civilians in shock, the Royal Flush Gang in surprise and Red Beetle’s was almost like a glare, really. Even Catwoman and Batgirl- the latter of whom even saw what that skank did minutes prior- was giving her a look.

“What?” she said with a guileless shrug.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Amber- now donning a primarily black suit plus a bandana to cover the lower half of his face and an added hood- peeked out from his vantage point and cursed when he saw the standstill.

Of course, of all the people to screw the pooch, it’d be Lila. Great, just fan-fucking-tastic.

“Putain de tout en enfer.” He hissed.

Not too long ago, he had managed to retrace his steps back to the entrance and take out the few goons that were left to guard the place. The goons had gotten complacent and he’s dealt with akumas with actual superpowers so they weren’t too hard to deal with.

After ensuring a clear path for evacuation, he doubled back only to bear witness to the current dilemma.

He had to do something. Maybe he could sneak up on them and use Venom to take one of them out of the game? No, it’d be a waste and that won’t stop them from hurting Lila either way though….he wouldn’t mind that happening- as vindictive as it sounds.

His gut curdled like sour milk as he realized that if he really wanted to help, he’d have to….ugh, he can’t believe he’s saying this- rescue Lila. Or at least find a way to give the others an opening to do so.

His eyes trailed up and he noticed the intricate designed LED lights conveniently hanging above Ace.

His lip quirked up into a devious smirk. Looks like he’s found his opening.

He took a deep breath and slowly spun his trompo, letting his wrist fall into the rhythm, allowing muscle memory gained from experience take control. He may have sucked at algebra and calculus but thanks to Sabrina, he was pretty decent at trigonometry.

Time to actually put Math to good use.

He threw his trompo, the weapon streaking through the air, towards the hanging lights like a dart.

Red Beetle’s head shot up just as Amber’s trompo sliced through, sending the lights crashing down on top of Ace.

Lila screamed as glass shards and sparks flew way too close for comfort, some of the former nicking her and cutting her blouse. Then she felt her body jerk as something wrapped around her waist and yanked her back.

She landed on her butt and turned around to see Red Beetle. She opened her mouth to reprimand the useless hero for his incompetency but before that could happen, he was dragging her across the floor as he spun his yoyo to deflect the sharp playing cards Queen was throwing at him.

“THIS WAY!” Amber yelled, gaining the crowd’s attention. “MOVE IT! HEAD FOR THE ENTRANCE! MAKE SURE NO ONE’S LEFT BEHIND!”

Red Beetle all but hurled Lila towards the crowd, allowing the wave of people to sweep her away from the crossfire.

Finally, he could focus on fighting.

“Didn’t know you Bats had another sidekick. Is this supposed to be your ace up your sleeve?” King asked. “I have one myself.”

He jabbed a thumb back towards Ace who was slowly rising from under the destroyed LED lights.

“I’ll take Queen.” Red Beetle said to Catwoman when he noticed said rogue hopping onto her flying playing card to make her getaway.

“Ten.” Bluebird said, cocking her rail gun, eyes narrowed towards her chosen target who was also about to fly away on her playing card.

“Jack and King.” Catwoman said, baring her claws at the two remaining members.

“I guess that leaves me with Ace. Whoop-de-doo.” Batgirl huffed but didn’t hesitate to take the fight towards Ace.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Red Beetle flipped back, avoiding another barrage of playing cards that buried themselves into the floor as though it was sand.

“Pick a card, any card!” Queen said, throwing another barrage at him as she charged forward atop her flying playing card.

Using his yoyos, he deflected all the sharp projectiles, surprising Queen. She halted and quickly turned around, no doubt to escape.

‘Oh no you don’t.’ Red Beetle thought.

He threw his yoyo out, the wire wrapping around Queen and with a strong pull, she was yanked right off her flying card.

“Bad beat.” He said with a smirk.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

King hissed, cursing as Catwoman raked her claws across his face, leaving three diagonal cuts in their wake that stung like hell. He swung his scepter but the agile feline fatale easily evaded it.

She leaned to the side, narrowly avoiding a laser beam that nearly singed her ear off.

“Follow the laser, kitty cat.” Jack grinned before firing more shots towards her, each one with scarily good accuracy that passed too close for comfort.

Flipping back she grabbed a piece of broken glass and held it up to shield herself from the next beam aimed towards her.

“Cute.” Jack mocked. “I can do this all day, can you?”

The beam was focused to a point and stronger; the unrelenting heat was already melting the glass. Reaching down, she picked up a handful of smaller shards and threw them towards Jack.

A few of them hit the laser, deflecting the beams everywhere. Said beams caused more debris to rain down on them, a big chunk in particular nearly flattening Jack.

“Meow.” She said. Unlike the rogue, she had agilely dodged the debris whereas the former scrambled away more frantically which left an opening.

She cracked her whip out, wrapping it around Jack’s neck. She pulled him towards her and slammed a spinning kick into him. He wheezed as the air was knocked out of him.

Another roundhouse kick to the face shattered the lense of his robotic laser-shooting eye and he was out cold on the floor.

King growled and aimed his scepter-which also doubled as a handheld plasma generator really- at her but Catwoman was faster. Her whip lashed out, coiling around the scepter and pulling it out of his grasp.

“Better luck next time, your highness.” She said before using his own scepter to knock him out.

Meanwhile, Batgirl was using her smaller size and agile maneuvers to keep Ace on his toes. Rolling to the side to avoid his smashing fist and threw a bolo at him to tie him up. Unfortunately, the brute android managed to use his superior strength to snap the cord.

She rolled in between his legs and wrapped her arms around his neck. He began to wildly flail, turning side to side in an attempt to dislodge her but she held firm.

Digging into her utility belt, she finally managed to find the specialized batarang Tim made, built with certain capabilities/functions meant for certain foes with certain abilities under certain circumstances.

She jammed it into the back of Ace’s neck where she’s willing to bet where most of the important software and hardware is located. She leaped off him just as thousands of volts of electricity surged through his systems.

Batgirl whistled when she saw the bright arcs sparking off his body. Damn, that thing packs one helluva punch.

Ace writhed and jerked like he was having a seizure before coming still as a statue……….and dropping straight down like a timbered tree.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“You’ll never catch me, Bluebird!” Ten snapped, firing more blasts at her.

“Yeah, yeah, heard it all before.” Bluebird snapped back before firing a few shots back in retaliation.

Changing the cartridge and rotating the chamber on her rail gun for a propellant she’s been dying to test on in the field- looks like she got her wish- she rolled out from her cover and fired.

Ten’s blast met hers face on and exploded into smoke. A smokescreen formed, enveloping Bluebird and hiding her from view.

Ten’s eyes darted around, trying to locate the vigilante. She fired a few warning shots, hoping one of them might get a lucky shot and hit her but no such luck-

“Nighty night, Ten.”

She whipped around only to find herself encased in high-density polyurethane foam that trapped her. She glared at Bluebird and spat curses that screamed retribution before the vigilante rolled her eyes and fired another shot to encase her mouth, shutting her up.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Catwoman and Batgirl glanced up and saw Red Beetle come back, dragging an unconscious Queen behind him, tied up in his yoyo.

“Got yours already? Nice.” Batgirl said.

“Thanks.” He said humbly. “You guys can take it from here?” he asked, warily eyeing a nearby door where he can vacate and transform before regrouping with the rest of the class.

“Sure, kit.” Catwoman said with a small smile. She can see why the kid managed to pique her love’s curiosity now, considering the potential he has.

“We work well together. Hope we can do it again sometime.” Batgirl said.

“Something tells me we will soon.” Red Beetle said with a rueful smirk. At the mention of Paris and akumas however, it also made him remember a crucial detail about a certain lying classmate of his.

“Wait, can you pass this message on to Batman?” he asked.

They gave him affirmative glances and he plowed on.

“Tell him I have another piece of information to tell him. I think another one of m-Marcel’s classmates is an undercover associate of Hawkmoth.” He said, barely managing to correct himself in time.

“We’ll let him know.” Batgirl reassured.

“Thanks. Bug out.” He said with a two-fingered salute before running off.

Along the way, he skidded to a halt just before he could run straight into Amber.

“There you are!” Amber panted. “Been looking all over for you.”

“Sorry, hands were full with Queen.” He said.

“You fought Quee- ya know what, nevermind. Come on, we gotta bail before our cover’s are blown.” Amber said.

“Right.” Red Beetle agreed.

Detransforming, they snuck out and managed to slip back with the rest of their class. Unfortunately, their appearance didn’t go unnoticed.

“There you two are!” Marcel’s eyes widened and he nearly lost his footing when Rose suddenly threw herself at her, hugging him. “We were so worried!” she bawled.

“Say wha?” him and Chris said dumfounded.

“Marcel! Chris!” a frantic Mme. Bustier hurried over to them. “Where were you two?!” she gasped.

“Hiding.” Marcel blurted out. “We….we heard all the loud noise and then gunfire and well….we got scared and just stayed in the dressing rooms to hide.”

Chris nodded. “We waited it out.” He added.

“Oh….okay that was….smart.” Mme. Bustier said.

Lila however was sniffling and crying, turning on her usual crocodile tears.

“That brute destroyed my bracelets! They were given to me by my great-great granduncle in England, th-they were a family heirloom he entrusted me with!” she wailed.

Marcel couldn’t stop a pang of vindictive satisfaction but it was overwhelmed by the flood of relief that also came forth, knowing at least that particular elephant in the room had been dealt with.

“Just be glad it was only your bracelets that broke and not your wrists.” Marcel told her icily.

Lila just sobbed louder, burying her face in her palms and Alya glared at him.

Shut up you! How dare you say that when you didn’t even bother to fix her blouse, you big bully! Leave her alone you asshole!” Alya snarled at him.

Lila just shot him a smirk past the gaps in her fingers, her eyes still gleaming with malevolence that sent a shiver up his spine.

“Gladly.” Marcel snapped back before turning around and heading towards the bus, uncaring if the others came with him or not.

“Something tells me those were more than just bling.” Chris stated, voice lowered so no one else could hear it but Marcel.

“You have no idea.” He said.

* * *

“What happened?” was the first thing Dahlia asked the moment they came back.

“Royal Flush Gang came and crashed the party. We took care of them thanks to a little help from a certain superhero from Paris.” Stephanie replied.

“Red Beetle?” Dahlia realized, surprised before frowning. “What was he doing there?”

“Marcel called him.” Stephanie said before she paused and belatedly realized she just opened a can of worms.

“What?! Marcel was there?” Dahlia asked, her back ramrod straight and Stephanie wasn’t sure if it was the echo of the cave but she could’ve sworn she heard Dahlia’s voice go a pitch higher. “Is he alright?”

“He’s fine.” Stephanie waved off. Then she paused as she remembered what happened to him before the Royal Flush Gang showed up.

“Brown……” Dahlia asked, voice low and even as she saw the hesitation the older girl had, telling her that she was hiding something. “What. Happened?”

Stephanie had no love lost for the sausage-haired brunette but still, a small part of her conscience didn't want Dahlia's wrath to be rained down on her. No one deserved that kind of retribution. Even Stephanie is admittedly a bit wary of that.

The blonde glanced over towards Harper and Selina who both shrugged.

“I say we tell her. I mean, if she’s his girlfriend, shouldn’t she know?” Harper pointed out.

“The kitten will find out one way or another. I say save yourself the trouble and tell it to her straight.” Selina agreed.

Stephanie prayed to every god and deity up there that she wasn’t about to be unintentionally responsible for a murder.

“Well….you see……”

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Stephanie cringed as Dahlia’s katana relentlessly danced its deadly song, a silver crescent whizzing through the air as it mutilated and maimed anything in its path. She turned around and saw Dahlia slash a training dummy’s neck off, sending it flying off the edge and down into the cavernous pits of the cave below.

If the term 'let off steam' was literal, she’s pretty sure the Batcave would be a sauna by now.

“What’s got her in such a bad mood?” Tim asked, warily eyeing the venting Dahlia, said girl stabbing the hell out of a dummy like a pincushion.

“Her boyfriend was in a pinch.” Stephanie said.

“Ah.” He said as though that explained it all. “………who’s body are we gonna hide?”

“Don’t know, don’t want to, don’t care.” Was all she said before wisely leaving lest she risk a training dummy’s appendage to come flying towards her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ngl, yes, some of the lines/dialogue was also from Justice League Doom- that DC animated movie was a masterpiece btw. Also 'Bad beat' refers to losing a hand of poker after getting unlucky.  
> I apologize if the chapter was short and sloppy. Tried my best in terms of fight/action scenes and hope I didn't disappoint. Like I said, still recovering from writer's block but regardless, lemme know what you think in the comments below!


	10. Reconciliations and (Slowly) Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcel reconciles with old friends; The Bat Family continue to work on devising a way to help Paris, including Marcel; Marcel begins to have suspicions and Robin gets locked in a closet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: There will be mentions of sexual harassment up ahead and panic attacks, DO NOT read if it's potentially triggering. I repeat, read at your risk, DO NOT read if it's triggering.  
> Also, there be a TINY widdle bit of smut up ahead. Istg it's miniscule.  
> Buckle up folks, it's gonna be a long chapter.

Marcel’s pencil flew across the paper, leaving black lines in its wake to connect and form the image he had in mind. It was therapeutic, feeling the charcoal end of his pencil brush against the smooth surface of paper, the _skritch skritch skritch_ sounding like soothing waves to his own ears.

Tikki glanced over at her chosen, eyes shining with worry. Since coming back, Marcel had done nothing but sketch, delving into his own world and refusing to come out.

“Give him time, Tikki.” Kaalki said beside her. “Let him get it all out.”

Tikki nodded but it did little to ebb the worry niggling in the pit of her stomach.

Marcel finally put his pencil down and blew away the eraser dust. Leaning back, he brought his sketchbook up and admired the two outfits he’d designed.

It was a knee-length empire waist dress with a high collar and tulle sleeves. The skirt was covered in a layer of tulle with sequins shaped like spades, diamonds and hearts. There was even a tulle cape attached to the dress with a split down the middle, the hem at the bottom lined with fur.

Beside it was a sketch of an off-shoulder dress romper. The outfit was black that faded to a gradient grey and finally, white. He even added a sketch of a spade-shaped necklace with matching bracelets and Dr Martens boots.

His encounter with the Royal Flush Gang was still fresh in his mind and he just needed to get it out. On the bright side, he did so in a pretty positive and productive way all things considered.

He closed his eyes and pushed his sketch away. Taking in a deep breath, he released it, burying his face in his hands.

“Marcel?” he looked up to see Tikki hovering in front of him, her entire being radiating concern.

“I’m fine, Tikki.” He said.

“No you’re not.” She told him, voice gentle but undeniably firm. “You know that I know you better than that.”

Marcel blew away the bangs in front of his face, looking away. Goddess or not, Tikki was perceptive underneath that sweet cheerful positivity.

“How could I have been so blind, Tikki?” he asked, voice miserable and self-loathing. “It was so damn obvious, hell, I even said so myself once. How the hell could I have not noticed that Lila would actively be working for Hawkmoth?”

“You don’t know that for sure, Marcel.” Tikki said. “I’m not just saying that to make you feel better, I mean it. For all we know, Hawkmoth did actually akumatize her and she just went along with it. You and I both know she’s vindictively petty like that.” She pointed out.

“That still basically means she’s working for Hawkmoth or with him or whatever.” Marcel grumbled, uncaring for grammar specifics.

“What matters is that you know now and better late than never; especially now that you’ve met up with Batman personally.” Tikki reminded him.

Marcel mulled over her words and…..she was right. Yeah he should’ve noticed it sooner but at least he didn’t notice it _later_ than now either. Like Tikki said, better late than never and besides, he had to focus on bigger things.

Like when Batman might contact him………..he should’ve specified a time and place now that he thought about it.

The bigger question was Lila. How long has she been working for Hawkmoth really? How much did she know? How involved was she, how deep has she gone down? Did she know about Adrianne’s alter ego?

His stomach sank and horror formed a pit in his heart as another possibility popped up.

How much has Adrianne told Lila? Does the latter think he’s more actively involved than others think? Did _she_ suspect _him_ too?

His mind drifted back to the dressing room where he had been at her mercy, utterly helpless and weak and god, how could he have been so pathetic- he was Red Beetle for crying out loud! Had it not been for Tikki sneaking off to get Chris or those two girls coming in at the right time……..

His phone vibrated, jolting him out of his thoughts.

[Chat name: Paris Boi & Gotham Gurl]

GGF: I heard about what happened at the museum. Are you okay? Are you hurt? Do you require any form of support?

His heart warmed at the concern she was showing. Even though she couldn’t do it in person, she’s still putting in an effort and it’s the thought that counts.

Angel: I’m fine. Managed to hide away from most of it.

GGF: Thank heavens. I was worried.

Marcel smiled then paused. Wait….she wasn’t there so how did she-

Angel: how do u know about that?

GGF: Heard about it on the news.

That……made sense. It also made him feel like a jittery paranoid fool.

GGF: Are you sure you’re alright? Did anything else happen while you were there?

GGF: Excluding the Royal Flush Gang’s appearance.

His fingers moved to type that no, nothing else happened he was fine but….. _was he really?_ Was he really ‘fine’? Did nothing bad at all happen before the Royal Flush Gang showed up? Could he really just lie to her like that?

Could he really try to act as though Lila hadn’t violated him again?

_“Why struggle Marcel? Why do you insist on playing hard to get? Just be a good boy and accept it already.”_

_“I’ll forgive this little transgression.” She purred in his ear. “If you don’t resist.”_

“-cel! MARCEL!” his head snapped up and he saw Tikki cupping his face in her small hands, eyes furrowed in worry. Behind her, Kaalki was also gazing at him in concern.

“I-” he gasped and suddenly, it felt like the air was rushing too fast down his throat, as though he hadn’t been breathing moments prior. His fingers tightened around his phone like a vice and all of a sudden, the room he was standing in felt claustrophobically small.

“Breathe, Marcel, breathe.” Tikki soothed. “She _isn’t_ here, you’re _safe_.”

“Right….right…..” he panted, slowly taking deep breaths, managing to even his breathing and calm his racing heart. “I’m safe.” He repeated, the grip on his phone loosening.

He glanced down and realized he should probably text back instead of rudely leaving Dahlia on read.

Angel: Something happened.

Angel: Don’t….wanna talk about it like this.

Angel: It’s kinda personal. Can we do it in person?

Marcel paused at the last text and contemplated deleting it but hesitated. His finger hovered over it, the delete icon right there at the corner of his screen, patiently waiting to do its task.

Was he rushing things? Should he really cross this line in particular with her already? What would she think of him if he told her about Lila? Would she be disgusted? Angry? Disappointed? Upset?

Worse, would she want to leave him and end whatever bond they’ve built up to that point right then and there?

GGF: Sure.

GGF: Tomorrow morning. Meet you at the lobby at 9:30?

He shook his head to dispel those thoughts. No, Dahlia has shown nothing but understanding and support since he’s met her. Time and again, she’s shown him more sincerity and care in barely a week than people he’s known for years.

Plus, she was his girlfriend- what kind of boyfriend didn’t trust and confide with his own girlfriend?

Angel: Tmrw morning, 9:30 at lobby. Gotcha.

Angel: Thank you.

GGF: No thanks needed, Angel.

GGF: I love you.

He blushed slightly at the affectionate nickname and heartfelt last text before setting his phone aside. He sat down again, intent on sketching more positive designs when there was a knock on his door.

Opening it, he was surprised to see Nathaniel, Rose and Juleka standing there, all three of them looking hesitant and nervous.

“Can I…help you guys?” he asked, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

In all honesty, he….didn’t know what to think of them at this point. Other than the occasional commission for Kitty Section, he didn’t really talk with Rose and Juleka that much anymore.

Actually….they’ve barely spoken at all since most of the time whenever they’re in the same place together, the two girls are listening to one of Lila’s tall tales.

Nathaniel himself was also on neutral grounds. Sometimes they would exchange simple short greetings but other than that, they didn’t talk much. Nathaniel wasn’t as enraptured by Lila as Alya but the redhead didn't stand up for him like Chris.

“H-Hi Marcel.” Juleka said, giving him a tentative wave.

“Can we come in? Please?” Rose asked. He noticed she was clasping Juleka’s hand like a lifeline, no doubt for support.

“Sure.” He said, letting them in.

Nathaniel twirled his stylus- a telltale sign that he was nervous- before he finally seemed to regain himself. He cleared his throat and shared a look with Rose and Juleka, a silent message passing between.

After receiving a nod from the two girls, he brushed his bangs aside and looked at Marcel, his expression contrite.

“We came here to apologize.” Nathaniel said.

Marcel blinked, taken aback. Apologize? To him? He definitely didn’t see that coming.

“Apologize for….?” He asked.

“For being horrible friends!” Rose said and her lip began to tremble, her nose sniffling as she barely suppressed her tears. “We’re here t-to apologize for being horrible friends to you for the pa-past three years.”

“We know Lila’s lying.” Juleka said while rubbing soothing circles on her girlfriend’s back. “We found out about it a while ago actually.”

“But we……” Nathaniel clenched his fist, eyes looking away from Marcel’s in shame. “We didn’t say anything. We didn’t _do_ anything.”

“We were scared.” Juleka continued, voice barely above a whisper. “We were…” she swallowed. “We were selfish.” Her voice cracked.

“We didn’t want to be hated.” Rose sniffled. “We didn’t want the class to shun us a-and ostracize us but they were already doing it to yo-you and we…..” she sobbed. “We did _nothing_. We just turned our backs on you after everything you’ve done for us and we’re sorry!”

“What we did was wrong.” Nathaniel went on. “You have every right to be mad at us and that’s okay. We just wanted to let you know.”

“After what happened today…..it slapped us in the face that….that all this time, we kept staying quiet and- and if something had happened to you or any of us, we would’ve left without getting the chance to own up to our mistakes.” Juleka went on.

Then the goth girl glanced up at him past her bangs, eyes shining with regret and remorse, her own lip quivering.

“Please, Marcel, don’t forgive us out of obligation. You don’t owe us anything after everything we’ve done.” She choked out.

“Take as much time as you need. We’ll give you space.” Nathaniel added.

“But just know that we are sorry and we hope that….someday, you’ll give us another chance.” Rose said.

“Guys…..” Marcel said, lost for words as it all lodged inside his throat, refusing to come out in a coherent form of speech.

After three years….three long tedious relentless years…….finally there was another form of hope for him- hope of fixing burned bridges and rekindling friendships he thought were gone for good.

God, he wanted to forgive them right then and there. To tell them it was okay, everything was fine, let bygones be bygones and move on, so they can be friends again.

But another part of him knew he could never truly accept them and be at peace if he did it that way. Yes, they were owning up to their mistakes but before that, they too had played a part in hurting him-even if it was unintentional and said parts were small in comparison to some.

Still if there’s anything the past three years- and Dahlia- have taught him, it’s that he’s _human_. He’s allowed to hold grudges and make mistakes; he’s allowed to say no to a request and he’s free to choose who he wants to embrace back into his life regardless if they were once his friend or enemy.

“I’m not gonna lie, what the three of you _did_ hurt me. I mean, come on, we knew each other since _l'ecole primaire_. I’m not hurt over the fact that you chose to befriend Lila or pick her side, I’m hurt over the fact that the three of you chose to believe the worse in me despite the amount of time we’ve already known one another beforehand. It hurt that you all seemed to think so lowly of me.” Marcel said firmly, arms crossed.

The three of them winced and lowered their heads in shame.

“But….” Marcel’s tone and face softened. “I’m also happy and relieved and trust me, you have no idea how glad I am that the three of you have finally been willing to accept the truth and admit your faults. Not….not many people can do that and honestly? I gave up all hope at this point of ever having a chance at reconciling with you guys.

“I wanna start over. It’ll take a while for me to fully forgive you guys and trust you like I used to, and it’ll take even longer to forget what you’ve done but I don’t want that to hold any of us down anymore. I want to move on and be better. I want all of us to be better.”

He extended a hand amiably, bluebells looking at them, earnest.

This was it. This was his olive branch.

The three of them shook it.

“Thank you.” Juleka whispered, giving him a watery shy smile.

“You won’t regret it.” Nathaniel added.

“Thank you, Marcel. I promise we’ll do what we have to make it up to you!” Rose said earnestly.

“I’ll hold you onto that.” Marcel said with a smile.

“Sorry to cut this short but well….it’s been a long day and I think we could all use some rest.” He added.

Nathaniel nodded. “No kidding. But still, no amount of references beat hands-on experience.” He said, his mind already cooking up a new comic idea based on what him and his class just experienced recently.

“That’s one way to look at it.” Marcel agreed.

“I’m just glad those rogues didn’t ‘hands-on’ harm any of us.” Juleka said, her grip on Rose tightening protectively.

Rose nodded. “It’s a good thing those heroes were there to help. Oh yeah! Speaking of which, do you think Red Beetle-”

Panicking, Marcel managed a pretty convincing yawn, stretching an arm over his head while the other covered his mouth.

“I dunno bout you guys but I’ve reached my adrenaline limit for today.” He said. “Ciao.”

The trio said their farewells too before leaving.

Marcel released a breath of relief. As he sat down however, he couldn’t stop the knot of dread from forming in his gut.

If Nathaniel, Rose and Juleka would bring it up, who’s to say no one else would? Worse, what if Alya brought Red Beetle’s appearance in Gotham up and posted it on her blog?

He groaned and buried his face in his pillow. For kwami’s sake, he can never catch a break, can he?

* * *

Dick didn’t know which was worse- Dahlia pacing or Dahlia training.

Both methods were methods she used to release steam, to vent her frustrating woes out on without unnecessary human violence. Regardless, both weren’t the most positive things to do on a daily basis either.

“What’s on your mind, Dali?” he asked her.

“None of your concern, Grayson.” She snipped at him.

“Hey…come on.” He said, walking over and slinging an arm across her shoulders. “You know you can tell your big bro anything.”

“I am not a child.” She snapped, pushing his arm away. “I’m fine.”

“And I’m Lex Luthor’s secret love child.” Dick snorted.

“Your lack of baldness says otherwise.” She said.

Dick snickered. Man, if only the guy himself could’ve been here to hear that.

“….is this about Marcel?” Dick asked.

“My world doesn’t revolve around him.” Dahlia said, looking away.

“I know but is it about him right now?” he implored.

“…..yes.” she admitted. “He wants to talk to me about something personal and…..and I already know what it is. Or at least, I have a suspicion.”

“And that is….?” He asked carefully. God, he hoped this wasn’t some teenage angst that was going to break her heart.

“Do you recall what happened yesterday at the Gotham museum of Fashion?” she asked.

“The one Selina, Steph and Harper went to? Yeah. Marcel and his class was there, so was Red Beetle.” Then the dots began to connect. “Is that what’s bothering you?”

Surprisingly, she shook her head in denial.

“No, it’s what happened _before_ that.” She said.

Dick tilted his head, still not getting the picture.

“Do you remember the sausage-haired harlot that’s part of the cattle Marcel calls his class?” Dahlia asked.

“Unfortunately, yes. How could I forget about your ‘bestie’?” Dick said, finger-quoting the last part.

Dahlia’s eye twitched in annoyance as she was reminded of that unworthy infidel carelessly tossing her name around. It only further fuelled her hatred for her.

“Well, before the attack, she was harassing Marcel.” Dahlia spat, voice filled with so much venom, it could burn through steel.

“My god…..” Dick said, horrified. “As in-”

Dahlia scowled and if looks could destroy, there probably wouldn’t be a floor under their feet by now.

“She _violated_ him.” She hissed. “She had the gall to lay a finger on him and taint him like that. I know I swore not to kill like father but by the gods, I am tempted to run every blade I can find through her pathetic being.”

“I’m sure Tim, Jason, Steph and Harper would help you hide the body.” Dick half-joked. Realizing this might not be a good time-and that Dahlia might actually consider that-, he quickly backpedalled. “I’m kidding.”

“Is this a joke to you?!” Dahlia snapped.

“No, it isn’t.” Dick said firmly, dropping the joking façade. “Dahlia, what that girl did was _wrong_. But keep in mind that she’s a tourist, a foreigner, _not_ a Gothamite. And she’s a minor, even if her actions are repulsive- and trust me when I say I want to tear her a new one as much as you do- it’s not worth it.

“You’ve come this far, you’ve grown so much. Do you really want to throw that all away on someone like _her?_ ”

“No.” Dahlia admitted, the more violent outbursts of dangerous angers dwindling away.

“He’s strong, Dali. The fact that he’s willing to open up and talk to you about it says a lot. Respect him, support him and just be there for him. Let him do it at his own pace, kay?” Dick said, patting her on the shoulder before walking off.

Dahlia sighed. Recently her emotions are more erratic than usual…..was it because of the new-found feelings of love she’s opened up for Marcel? It was so precious and amazing yet it left her feeling so vulnerable at times.

Was this why father spent a majority of his left pushing away such commitments until Selina came along and quelled his worries? Would she have to wait just as long? Would she be willing to continue risking this vulnerability in exchange for happiness?

“Mistress Dahlia.” Alfred’s voice jolted her out of her stupor. Doggone it, she really is losing her touch, spacing out like that.

“Yes, Pennyworth?” she asked.

“Master Bruce is calling for all members to meet at the Batcave.” Alfred said.

Glad for the distraction, she briskly made her way towards the cave. She arrived and saw Barbara, Bruce and surprisingly, Harper gathered around the computer.

“Yesterday during the Royal Flush Gang’s attack, the vid-link connected to Harper’s mask picked this up.” Bruce said, getting straight to the point without turning around.

Typing on the console, he reviewed the footage once more.

“Play sequence.”

The screen displayed the footage from Bluebird’s perspective; of them crashing down from the skylight. Glass shards scattered and people screamed or cried in terror. The surroundings somewhat blurred due to the fact that she had been in freefall before touching solid ground.

Rewinding the video, it was played in slow-motion, allowing them to see every shard of glass cascading down. The faces of the shocked civilians below clear as day.

“Freeze frame.” Bruce said, pausing the video once they’ve landed. He cropped out a specific part of the footage. “Enlarge and enhance.”

Oracle typed on the console. Zooming in and enhancing, it was then they all saw the purple and black butterfly.

“That is one messed up butterfly.” Jason remarked.

Dahlia’s eyes narrowed. “An akuma.” She noticed.

Bruce nodded.

“So they’ve had an akuma amongst them all this time?” Dick asked.

“Looks like it.” Harper said.

“But I thought akumas were supposed to give them powers and a not so inconspicuous makeover?” Stephanie asked, remembering the files they’ve all reviewed about the akumas and sentimonsters.

“I have a theory that this one was a sleeper agent of sorts. A dormant one meant for undercover work.” Bruce said.

“You suspect that Lila Rossi is an associate of Hawkmoth’s too.” Tim said.

“How’d you know her name?” Stephanie asked.

Tim shrugged. “Did a background check on the class.”

“Of course you would.” She said with exasperated fondness.

“Since the witch is already on Gotham territory, I say we take this opportunity to investigate her with extreme prejudice.” Dahlia said, itching for a chance to rip the Italian harlot a new one.

Dick just gave Bruce a look that told him he was walking on eggshells with that one.

“Not yet. Right now, our main priority is to observe and collect more information. We’re dealing with magic.” Bruce grimaced slightly at the last word. “We’re taking a gamble as it is. I’ll sleep better knowing we’ve covered all possibilities.”

“As if you ever sleep.” Jason muttered under his breath. Cass elbowed him.

“The fact remains that both Lila and Adrianne are to be monitored and approached with high precaution.” Bruce went on.

“I’ll see what kinda dirt I can dig up on them in the meantime.” Barbara said.

“Speaking of dirt, Bug Boy has more to share with us. Told us to pass the message on.” Harper chimed in.

“Marcel or Red Beetle?” Bruce asked.

Harper shrugged. “Wasn’t very specific….can’t say he specified a time or place either actually.” She admitted.

“I say we go to Marcel.” Stephanie said. “I mean, he’s the go-to in-between guy, right? Maybe he’d be more willing to share.”

Selina glanced around and it was then she noticed the sudden absence of one member.

“And where do you suppose Dali’s slipped off to?” she asked.

It was then the rest of them noticed that the young girl had slipped away without them noticing. Once again they were reminded that despite being the most outspoken Robin, she can also be the stealthiest Robin.

“Give her time.” Selina whispered to Bruce, giving him a knowing look. “The kitten needs her space.”

Upstairs, Dahlia meditated with Titus faithfully beside her while Alfred- the cat, not the butler- lounged by the window.

Dahlia sighed and ran a finger through Titus’s fur.

“What do I do, boy?” she asked him softly as he gazed at her, his liquid eyes shining with intelligent acknowledge.

He lifted an ear and tilted his head with a small whine as though prompting her to emphasize.

“You know I despise lack of control.” She explained. “And recently, my emotions are becoming rather….erratic. I’m losing my edge and I worry it’s because of my newfound happiness.”

Titus just groaned as though he too found the dilemma frustratingly difficult. Not that she could blame him.

“What do you suppose I should do?” she asked, placing her chin in her palm. Her eyes gazed at the dahlia flower she had given him, lovingly placed inside a flower vase she personally made herself, still as radiant as the night he gave it to her.

He barked and bit her sleeve. Then he tugged, trying to drag her towards the door. He looked at her, then the door, then back at her and barked once more, tongue lolling and tail wagging.

“You think I should go out and see him myself?” she asked with a raised brow.

Titus barked in affirmation.

“That’s the thing, boy. Marcel’s already told me that he’d open up tomorrow but…..” she sighed. “I already more or less know what he might tell me.”

Titus sat back on his haunches and tilted his head, confused.

“It….kinda ruins it, you know? I mean, a part of me is grateful that I’ve been notified beforehand so I could mentally steel myself, lest I make an impulsive decision that jeopardizes it all but still…..I just feel…….” She hesitated.

Guilty? Lost? Scared? Worried?

Dahlia sighed. Relationships were confusing. No wonder father steered clear of them so brusquely.

Titus whined and licked her face to comfort her. She smiled and patted his muzzle.

“Thanks, boy.” She said.

Titus’s tongue lolled out, his tail wagging in satisfaction before he plopped his head on top of her lap.

The Great Dane was proud that he managed to quell some of his owner’s woes. A girl like her deserves all the love in the world after everything she’s done for him.

Thus, he lied there, content with the way things were. And although he wasn’t a cat, even his curiosity was piqued to meet this human boy who’s often been on his owner’s mind lately.

* * *

Marcel grunted as he forced his trembling arms and shoulders to support his body weight, sweat dripping down his brow as he did another push-up. Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself up one more time before finally collapsing.

Bending his arms back, he placed them next to his ears and pulled his knees up to his chest and pushed up, at the same time kicking his legs up. He successfully kip-up flipped back onto his feet.

Panting, he wiped the sweat from his brow and grabbed a water bottle, chugging it down. He slumped down on his bed and tore his sweaty tank top off, throwing it onto a nearby chair.

“You’re awfully worked up.” Kaalki remarked.

“Marcel, you should stop already. It’s getting late and you haven’t even had dinner yet.” Tikki pointed out.

Marcel shrugged. “Not hungry.” He said before placing his hands behind his head and lying down.

One of the pros of being a superhero- you keep in shape. If there’s anything else the past three years have taught him, it’s that his natural physical condition could be his best ally if he honed it properly.

And he has to admit, being able to actually stay fit was pretty dang good. It was satisfying in a way, to know that you’re healthy and strong because of the blood, sweat and tears you personally poured.

Suddenly, Tikki and Kaalki flitted away to hide, just as there was a knock on his window, startling him.

Walking over, he pulled the curtains aside and was surprised to see-

“Robin?” he asked.

Behind the window, Robin opened her mouth-

The words died in her throat when she became acutely aware that Marcel was coated in a sheen of sweat, his skin slightly flushed and holy shit, he was shirtless.

_Shirtless._

To quote Wonder Woman; Hera help her.

The window opened and the smell of sweat hit her nostrils, bringing her back to reality.

“What are you doing here?” Marcel asked.

“What are you doing shirtless?” she found herself blurting out. She instantly regretted it, face turning red to the tips of her ears and she pointedly looked away.

‘Don’t look, don’t look, good lord, don’t you dare look!’ she hissed, unwilling to let herself delve down those depths in her mind- but _god damn it all_ , she was _tempted_ and it took more willpower than she thought to _not_ sneak another peak and take in just how damningly satisfyingly fit and well-tone her boyfriend’s body truly was and what it’d be like to-

No, NO! Out. Of. The. Gutter. _Pull yourself together, you’re better than this!_ How can she let something as primitive as hormones cloud her judgement?!

Marcel’s face turned just as red and he spluttered as he idiotically realized he was standing in front of her and he was sweaty and stinky and _mon dieu_ , he was frickin shirtless!

“Sorry!’ he squeaked, and quickly pulled his tank top over his head again.

“Wha-what are you doing here?” Marcel asked, not quite meeting her eye.

“I came to check on you.” Again, she found herself blurting that out without thoroughly thinking it through. “I heard about what happened at the Gotham Museum of Fashion.”

“How’d you know I’d be there?” he asked.

“Well, this is my city. I have my sources.” She said cryptically.

“You mean a little birdie told you? Or more specifically, a Bluebird?” Marcel sassed, an arm on his slightly cocked hip.

“For one who isn’t an adept detective, you are undeniably perceptive.” She remarked.

“Flattered. So you gonna come in or do you need an invitation?” he asked.

Her lip twitched and she dropped inside. Thankfully, she managed to regain her composure at this point. Once inside, she took her hood off.

Now that the two of them were standing there, up close with proper lighting and all the time in the world….Marcel noticed that her hair was black and shoulder-length, styled in an asymmetrical bob. It was the same hairstyle as……Dahlia…..

He shook his head. Coincidence, obviously. Besides, Dahlia was a fan of Robin, maybe she decided to cut her hairstyle in a similar style as a tribute of sorts.

“Do you….want a drink or anything?” Marcel offered.

Robin shrugged. “I’m fine, thanks.” Then her face softened. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine, Robin. Really, I am. I hid away during the whole hostage situation anyways and Red Beetle got me to safety.” He reassured her.

She looked like she wanted to say something else but didn’t. Instead, she opted to awkwardly look away.

“You do this with all the civilians you save?” Marcel asked, attempting to lessen the tension.

“No.” she admitted bluntly. “You’re an exception.”

“Am I now?” he asked.

“Admittedly, I have begun to grow rather fond of your presence.” She said.

“Same to you.” He found himself replying earnestly.

She picked it up too, her cheeks turning slightly pink once more, as did Marcel’s.

“I mean, you’re great company. You’re very….humane when you’re, y’know, just like this.” Marcel said, gesturing to her.

“Just like this?” she parroted, raising a brow.

“Just talking. Just being there without tensing up ready for a fight or dodging bullets or blocking a punch. You just…talking to me like this, person to person.” He replied.

So that’s he viewed her even when she was in her vigilante alter ego? An equal just as capable of simply being there in a sense of _normalcy_ despite the fact that she was wearing a mask to conceal her identity and carried enough gadgets in her utility belt to kill anyone in dozens of different ways?

“As much as I would like to continue this pleasant chit chat, we have work to do.” She said, deciding that she’s already selfishly wasted enough time. “Red Beetle mentioned you both had more information to tell us.”

“Tonight? Now?” Marcel asked.

Robin shrugged. “He wasn’t all that specific.”

……… _merde_ , now that he thought about it, Robin was right. He should’ve been more specific.

“Can you give me a moment to wash up and get a change of clothes?” he asked.

“Sure.” Robin said. “I’ll wait.” She said, moving over to sit by one of the chair, crossing one leg over the other.

Again, that simple movement and position looked uncannily familiar….similar actually……

Shaking his head once more, he grabbed a towel and some clothes and went to take a shower.

It left Robin alone and….she wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or a curse.

It left her alone with her thoughts.

And some thoughts…..some were so foreign yet intimate that it overwhelmed her and in all honesty, intimidated her.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

A few minutes later, Marcel stepped out, once again wearing the same Robin hoodie he had worn the first night he met the Bat Family face to face. Robin released a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

Now she could focus. She could hone her focus and push all irrelevant thoughts aside in favour of clarity.

By now, the motion of having his arms wrapped around her and carrying his weight as they both swung through Gotham was becoming smooth muscle memory.

But for once….it felt different to Robin. Back then, the fact that his body was pressed so close to hers hadn’t been so blaringly obvious in her mind until now.

She mentally chided herself. She had to focus, for crying out loud, each one of these irrelevant intrusive and she daresay intimate to the point of perverted thoughts was a disgrace to the lifestyle she dedicated to regain a mastery level of control over her body, mind and spirit.

God, timing was a bitch. Todd will _never_ let her live this down if he ever found out about her bad timing earlier.

“You okay?” Marcel asked, bluebells eyes shining like crystals with concern when they paused on a rooftop. “You seem….off.”

“And you know me well enough to read me like that?” she replied, voice brusquer than she intended.

He seemed to notice if the spark of hurt in his eyes was anything to go by and that made her feel worse. He didn’t deserve that; didn’t deserve to be on the bad end of her….tantrum just because she’s acting like some….teenage highschool girl with raging hormones.

“Sorry.” She said in a softer tone. “I’m just feeling…..”

What? _What was she feeling, really?_

She still doesn’t have an answer to that.

So she did the easiest solution; she settled on one amongst the hurricane.

Guilt and frankly, it was the most accurate description of emotion she could find.

Marcel just looked at her, eyes imploring but openly patient, allowing her to slowly gather her thoughts in alignment.

“I feel guilty.” She said. “When I heard about what happened I was worried about you. I was worried you’d get hurt and worse, I couldn’t do anything about that because I _wasn’t there_.”

‘Because I failed you.’ Went unsaid.

“Robin……” he said, voice soft. “It’s not your fault.” He told her, voice firm but gentle.

“It’s my duty to protect you…and all innocents.” She quickly added. Crap, she was getting too vulnerable around him and that was unacceptable because right now she was _Robin, not Dahlia Wayne_ goddamn it.

“And you’re already doing a damn good job. Robin, you’re capable, strong, intelligent, brave, heroic and selfless but you’re just one person. You’re only human. Batman once protected Gotham all by himself too but eventually he opened up and accepted help, _including yours._ No man or woman is an island.” He told her, placing a warm comforting hand on her shoulder, offering her that smile that made her heart stutter, skipping a beat and lodging in her throat.

For a moment, she felt the waves quell slightly and her lips twitched upwards into a small smile.

“Thanks.” Then she steeled herself, squaring her shoulders and straitening her back, emitting her most controlled aura to look the very picture of professionalism once more.

“Now let’s not keep the Bats waiting any longer.” She said and they were off once more.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“Lila Rossi is an associate of Hawkmoth.” Marcel instantly said the moment he was on solid ground and robin relinquished her grip on him.

“Why do you say that?” Batman asked. He himself had already suspected as much but Marcel could definitely shed more light and provide more evidence.

“………you want me to start from the very beginning or do you want me to cut straight to her turn to the dark side point?” Marcel asked dryly with a raised brow.

“From the very beginning.” Batman replied dead serious as always.

Marcel sighed, blowing a strand of hair away from his face. He hoped he could convey what was needed without making it sound too personal.

“When Lila first came to my school, we all thought she was just another transfer student from Italy with a wild amazing life. How she knew Prince Ali and flew on his private jet with him; how Jagged Stone wrote a song about her; how she knew all the Hollywood big shots like Steven Besielsberg; how she’s Red Beetle’s ‘bestie’ cuz he saved her life once and that she’s a descendant of a miraculous superhero herself.” He scoffed the last parts with no small amount of sarcastic bite.

Already, the Bat Family were stupefied.

“Why the hell would Jagged Stone write a song about her? That just sounds so.....wrong.” Batgirl gagged.

“It makes him sound like a pedophile.” Red Robin stated bluntly. “If word got out and taken seriously, he could get into serious trouble with the law and even if it was proven false, it’d still be a blow to his reputation.”

“Red Beetle’s ‘bestie’?” Robin and Red Hood deadpanned.

“She lies as easily as she breathes.” Marcel said with a shrug, as though stating the sky was blue.

Dahlia and Dick knew that all too well firsthand.

“And everyone just sucks it up?” Red Hood asked.

“Well…to be fair, my class isn’t average. I mean, we have the mayor’s son, a famous fashion designer’s teenage model daughter, a boy in my class once created a robot with an actual sentient AI, one of them is the artist of a comic that’s being published by actual companies, some of them are in a band that’s gradually gaining popularity and so on. Plus, considering we already had a villain with evil butterflies and two superheroes with magical jewellery……” he spread his arms out.

“It wasn’t too hard to believe and hey, who wouldn’t want to listen to an adventurous lavish story? The fact that it’s unbelievable was what made it all the more intriguing.

“Moving on, remember how I told you Adrianne had taken that book from her father? How afterwards a classmate of hers nabbed it and threw it in the garbage can? Yeah, that classmate was Lila. She did it so she could buy this necklace that looks like one of the miraculous depicted in the book to impress Adrianne.

“Red Beetle showed up and called her out. She ran off in tears and threw a tantrum. She was so ticked off she got akumatized into Volpina. Red Beetle and Chat Noir defeated her and they thought that was the end of it but….it wasn’t.

“Lila left for a while after that. Apparently, she was in Achu hanging with Prince Ali in his palace and was going to do a worldwide environmental project to reduce world pollution.” He said sarcastically with jazz hands.

“That girl sounds like a walking pollution herself.” Red Hood muttered. Robin silently agreed.

“The day that happened was during Heroes Day. You guys read about it in the file I sent you yet?” Marcel asked.

“We have.” Batman affirmed.

“Then you’ll know what happened. Long story short, Volpina showed up again. Funny how she was suddenly back in Paris when she was in Achu that morning, huh?

“I didn’t think about it too much. I figured Lila was just being petty and that she’s already gotten over it…and besides, almost everyone was akumatized again that day. Until Red Beetle and I noticed that while yes, he managed to purify all the akumas, the one akuma he doesn’t recall purifying was Volpina’s aka Lila’s specifically.

“That meant that the only way she could’ve reverted to normal is if Hawkmoth had called the akuma back himself. Again, while this was suspicious it doesn’t give solid proof that Lila is actively working with him. For all we knew, Hawkmoth just saw her as an expendable tool.

“Once again we thought that was the end of it but _also again_ , we were wrong. When Lila came back she…..” Marcel hesitated. Was it really necessary to tell him about all her outlandish lies? Would it sound personal and petty to them?

“She just kept going. She kept making up her lies; like how she had tinnitus from saving Jagged Stone’s kitten from a tarmac runway-”

“But Jagged Stone is allergic to cats!” Red Robin snapped. He looked ready to pop a vein from the sheer absurdity and stupidity of Lila’s lies. Didn’t help that he was kinda a fan of Jagged Stone either.

“She also caught a napkin ball that nearly gouged out the eye of one of my classmates with a sprained wrist.” Marcel added.

Yup, Red Robin looked ready to have an aneurism and Red Hood and Nightwing weren’t that far behind. Even the silent stoic Black Bat was getting knocked for a loop over the illogical stupidity.

“Illogical. No sense whatsoever.” She stated aloud.

“She also saved Red Beetle’s life.” He added.

“To outright claim to have any form of affiliation with a superhero is stupidly dangerous. Even if she’s working for Hawkmoth, if word gets out, there’s no stopping terrorists from kidnapping her to exploit Red Beetle.” Batman noted with obvious disapproval.

“She’s untouchable, she has diplomatic immunity after all.” Marcel snipped.

“She does?” Robin asked genuinely.

“Yes.” Marcel said, dropping the sarcasm. “Her mom’s a diplomat at the Italian Embassy.”

“Wait, how does her mom not know anything about this?” Batgirl asked.

“I’m willing to bet Lila lies to her too. I mean, how else could she have pulled off those absences during her ‘trips’? Plus, with her mom’s busy work at the embassy, she probably isn’t home much and from what I’ve gathered, Lila’s dad is out of the picture.” He supplied.

“And the principal and teacher do shit about that?” Red Hood asked.

“They’re not the most stellar examples of educators.” Marcel said bitterly.

“Back to the topic at hand. Lila was akumatized again that day; this time into Chameleon.” He scrunched his nose up in disgust as he remembered her abilities.

Judging from the gag Batgirl did and the grimace from some of the others, they probably knew about those too.

“Again, Red Beetle and Chat Noir dealt with her and the former tried to extend an olive branch. She pretended to accept it but trust me, she still holds a perpetual grudge against him. Perpetual as it is though…it’s pretty vindictive and borders on malice.

“She kept going on with her manipulation until she managed to have everyone in my class wrapped around her finger; even the principal and our homeroom teacher Mme. Bustier. The only ones who weren’t affected were myself, Chris, Alix, Sabrina and recently, Nathaniel, Juleka and Rose.

“I tried calling her out and she…………” he paused and suddenly the words hitched in his throat. Should he…..should her tell them? Did it matter if he did?

Batman’s keen eye instantly noticed the sudden internal conflict but it wasn’t just that. No, he saw the fear in Marcel’s eyes, the pain.

The fear and pain of a victim.

He’s seen it one too many times in Gotham….and still does to this day.

“You can trust us.” Robin said, her voice unnaturally but genuinely soft as she stepped forward. “We’re here to help you too, Marcel.” She added. Her hand reached out, hesitated before finally, gently settling itself on his shoulder.

“She threatened me.” Marcel rasped, voice below a whisper. “I was…..” he shook his head, disappointed at his own naivety. “I was so stupid and naïve, so goddamn ignorant I……” he blinked, trying to hold back the tears.

“I didn’t know at first. At first I thought she was just a girl who was lonely and told lies to get attention and friends but then she started giving them all empty promises, offering them false hope, playing with their hopes and dreams. I got worried that if it kept going, their futures would be done for.

“I mean, come on, her lies were grand but anyone could’ve just gone onto the bloody Internet to search them up and easily debunk them.”

“No shit.” Red Robin muttered. Nightwing elbowed him to shut up.

Marcel laughed, bitter and devoid of humour. “I guess I overestimated my classmates…..that or akumas lessen the braincells you have. They kept listening to her, doting on her, hell, they practically grovel before her and kiss the ground she walks on. She treated them like servants; asking them to carry her lunch and books for her, do her homework for her, dumping errands onto them at the last minute with another half-assed lie and everytime she couldn’t hold her end of the deal? More lies.

“It was getting out of hand and I couldn’t let her play them like that as though they were puppets so I confronted her about it. I called her out and told her to stop but she didn’t listen and…..” he swallowed, hugging himself as his body began to tremble.

Robin stood beside him and rubbed soothing circles on her back, gently telling him to take his time with a patience even she didn’t know she had.

“She cornered me and….and god, I should’ve fought back but I was terrified and just….froze like an idiot and she gave me an ultimatum- bow down to her and become her….her….. ‘significant equal’.” He looked ready to hurl after saying that. “Or she’ll ostracize me, isolate me and make me lose all my friends.”

Marcel shook his head and took a deep breath, recomposing himself. This wasn’t about him, he can have his pity party later. He had to focus.

“After that well…..she still kept going on with her lies and everytime I tried to point out the loopholes or inconsistencies she’d turn on the crocodile tears and everyone would turn on me. She even spreads rumours about me, slandering my reputation so everyone pretty much assumes I’m just a jealous creepy jerk that’s bullying her because I want to play with her feelings despite the fact that she’s such a ‘kind, friendly, talented girl who wants everyone to get along and has a crush on me’ but I’m the bad boy playing hard to get and taking it too far.” He paused for a moment to snort.

“I’d rather marry a girl with three eyes and two heads than so much as hug that Italian _chienne_.”

He sighed and shook his head. “Moving on from me and my highschool drama life; I think…..three times when my friends and I pointed out her lies, she got akumatized. Red Beetle and I already knew she was petty and vindictive and akumas were rising so we didn’t dwell on it. By then we saw her as more of a constant annoyance really.

“But then today at the fashion museum she........” he swallowed the bitter taste rising in his throat. “She….she cornered me again and……..”

Robin was glad he wasn’t looking at her, otherwise he would see the look of pure murderous rage on her face. If any metahuman or Martian looked into her mind right now, they’d think she was a serial killer in a heartbeat.

Yes, that’s how graphic and thorough she was plotting murder but a girl can dream, right?

“She was damn strong too. I fought back this time, really I did but I couldn’t. She had these cuff bracelets- they were akumatized and given to her by Hawkmoth. I know this because she pretty much said it to my face and I connected the dots. They drained my energy and left me weak, paralyzed and…and utterly helpless. It also gave her enhanced strength.

“Anyways before she could go too far, two girls came in and pulled her away. After that, the Royal Flush Gang came and well….you know the rest.” Marcel finished.

For a while, the Bat Family stayed silent, mulling over Marcel’s words while also silently fuming over the fact that a single girl was capable of stooping so low with such depraved malice- all out of self-deluded desire for attention and power.

“There’s also the fact that coincidentally, she works for Gabriel Agreste as a model too, just like Adrianne. Awfully convenient, huh? She’s even the cause for some akumatizations so….yeah, that kinda adds to her case.” Marcel added, trying to move on and ignore the familiar feeling of repulsiveness he got on his own skin and the want to just curl into a ball and hide in a hole whenever he thought of Lila doing……. _that_ to him.

“Thank you for telling us this, Marcel.” Batman said. “What you just told us is crucial and could be the turning point to ending all this.”

“And you finally managed to out a rat to us bats.” Red Hood said. “And you know what we bats do to rodents.”

“Wait, are you guys gonna actually arrest Lila? Can you do that? I mean….don’t get me wrong, I have no love lost for that lying sausage-hair girl but I’m not kidding when I say she has diplomatic immunity. Won’t harming her get you all into international trouble?” Marcel asked.

“Marcel, Batman once punched Darkseid in the face and one of his colleagues is the King of bloody Atlantis while the other is Princess of the Amazons.” Robin deadpanned to him.

“And Nightwing’s girlfriend is a hot alien warrior princess.” Red Hood helpfully added.

“Dude, not now.” Nightwing hissed. This was supposed to be professional, damn it!

Batman gave Red Hood a stern look which thankfully more or less made him shut his trap.

“We won’t take any rash action.” Batman reassured Marcel. “However, the fact remains that regardless if she’s a minor, what she’s done is wrong and she must face the consequences of her crimes, diplomatic immunity or not. The fact that she’s further willingly aiding a terrorist has already earned her a sentence that will last until she’s old enough to face the full-force of the law.”

Then the Dark Knight’s tone softened fractionally.

“Marcel, this girl has sexually harassed you multiple times. What’s she’s doing is wrong but what’s even more wrong is keeping quiet and letting her get away with it.” He said.

“He’s right.” Nightwing chimed in. “Girls like her think they can get away with it because they think boys can’t be molested and that they can pass off their actions as being clingy or flirtatious but they’re dead wrong. It’s sexual harassment, simple as that.”

“Trust us, kid. We’ve been there before.” Red Hood added.

It’s true. As the ‘sons’ of Gotham’s Prince, more than once they’ve had peers smothering them and invading their personal space.

More than once they’ve heard people whisper about how good Dick’s ass looks, ogling him when they think they don’t notice; how girls flirt with Jason and tease him for his bad boy image; how some try to fluster and play with timid Tim’s feelings and so on. The media doesn’t help either, what with the tabloids and all.

And it. Was. Wrong.

It was inappropriate and offensive and downright disrespectful, insulting one’s rights in general. They were human beings with their own sense of pride and dignity, not some pretty sculpture for eye candy.

Even now there’s still the occasional person who slithers too close for comfort.

“We’re going to help you, Marcel.” Robin vowed. “We promised to help Paris, including you and that doesn’t stop at taking down Hawkmoth alone.”

Marcel glanced around, seeing the earnest faces on each member of Gotham’s Guardians. He blinked back tears because it was so overwhelming- to finally have someone else, someone _capable,_ someone with the resources, someone of _authority_ actually take him seriously and willingly help him with this.

“Thank you.” He choked out.

Before any of them could say ‘you’re welcome’ Marcel was already stepping forward and much to everyone’s further shock, hugged Batman.

“Thank you.” He gasped again, pressing his face against the tough black Kevlar.

The Dark Knight’s face softened. In that moment, he realized the man before him was another traumatized broken boy who’s finally seen the light of hope.

“You’re welcome.” He said softly.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“We’re here.” Robin said, smoothly swinging them back to the window in his room.

“Thanks.” He said.

“Always a pleasure to hang out with you.” She quipped.

“………….oh my god……” he was trembling and before she knew it, he was full out laughing and clutching his stomach. “Oh my god-! Did you just make a pun?!” he wheezed between his laughs.

Robin spluttered and her brain halted as she belatedly realized that holy shit, she just made a frickin cringey-ass pun.

“It was unintentional!” she spluttered, trying to regain her dignity.

“Ahahahaaaa, the fearsome serious Robin just made a pun!” he wheezed, doubling over as his stomach began to hurt.

“Excuse me, I have an excellent sense of humour.” She huffed haughtily, crossing her arms and levelling a glare at him though…her lips quirked up slightly, ruining the effect because darn it, she didn’t mind it all since she was able to make Marcel and laugh and _be happy._

And he deserved all the happiness in the world.

“That’s what they all say.” Marcel said smugly.

“And you’re a comedian, are you?” she challenged.

“Well if it helps…..it’s been a while since I’ve heard a pun that doesn’t make me cringe.” He said.

He tried not to think of the numerous cringey cheesy corny and sometimes, downright awful puns a certain feline Paris superhero often said. Seriously, it was getting old.

“I’m glad I could make you happy.” Robin told him, tone soft and sincere. “Marcel, you deserve to be happy and you don’t deserve….all this.”

He smiled at her, eyes shining with gratitude and his lips looked so soft- she wanted to just embrace him and kiss him right then and there and tell him, it was going to be _okay_ because she was _there_ and was willing to do whatever it takes to make him happy and loved.

“I’m glad I have someone like you to make me feel happy too.” He said.

Then he stepped forward and hugged her.

She froze, surprised by the intimate physical affection he showed her despite the fact that she was currently in her vigilante alter ego…but then she remembered how she too had done as such not too long ago.

With that in mind, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to melt into the embrace.

She wanted this moment to last forever.

But it couldn’t.

And once again, she was crossing a line as a vigilante/hero.

Fortunately, Marcel let go and that brief moment of connection was cut off.

Robin tried to ignore the pang of disappointment at that.

For a moment, she stood there, unsure what to do next. She decided that she’s already done what was needed; that she should go now, lest she crossed more boundaries.

She opened her mouth, ready to bid him farewell but then there was a clanking noise from outside. Someone was out there, they were making their way towards the window-

Robin tensed, thinking it was a burglar but Marcel did too as he recognized who it was and _merde_ , this was bad, Robin was here and if she saw her right now, things could escalate and get ugly.

Suddenly, Robin found herself getting all but shoved into a closet by Marcel. She was confused and ready to protest that she could take care of herself and him but then she saw the desperate almost panicked look in his eye.

That made her hesitate which was more than enough time for Marcel to close the doors on her, leaving a crack as her only window to what the hell was going on that had him so spooked.

Then she remembered a gadget in her belt that could help. An invention Duke and Tim had built recently- a mini telescope that was as short as a pencil and as thin as a straw. It could extend, bend and connect to a tablet or any other device to view images for the bigger naked eye to see. Meant for spying as it can easily fit through narrow gaps.

Like the crack in between the closet doors.

Connecting it to the vid-link in her mask, she extended it out slightly and saw that Marcel had picked up his sketchbook, pretending to look busy.

There was a knock on his window before a hushed voice called out.

“Marcel? Are you in there?”

Marcel resisted the urge to groan in frustration but he could do nothing to stop the headache he felt forming.

“Chat, what are you doing here?!” he hissed, walking over to the window to let her in.

“Nice to see you too.” She joked, sliding in.

‘That must be Chat Noir.’ Robin realized, able to see everything clearly as though she were standing outside. Once again, she wasn’t impressed.

Chat Noir had blonde feathered hair and wore a black skintight catsuit and a tactical corset with neon green lining which slightly enunciated her curves. A belt wrapped around her waist, dangling down like a tail and she wore ankle-high heeled boots with steel toes that resembled a cat’s paws. She also wore a black domino mask with faux black leather cat ears and- was that a bell on her neck?!

Catwoman would be offended by the copycat.

Robin also noted that if she looked close enough, she could see that even the eyes were eerily cat-like- green sclera with dark green irises and slitted oval pupils. Considering magic was involved, she doubted those were simply contact lenses.

Marcel just crossed his arms and gave Chat Noir a stern glare.

“Well aren’t you in a hissy mood. Why so grouchy, grumpy cat?” she joked though more nervously this time.

“Why are you here, Chat?” He asked, getting straight to the point.

“I was worried about you. You didn’t answer any of my texts and didn’t answer the door when I dropped by earlier.” She explained.

“I was busy and you know how I get when I’m focused. I didn’t answer your texts because my phone was on silent.” Marcel said icily. “I can’t believe you abused your miraculous over something as petty as this!” he said, throwing his arms up in exasperation.

“I’m sorry Marcel but I really need to talk to you.” She pleaded.

Marcel groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I know you’re mad at me but just hear me out, okay?!” she insisted. Then she grabbed his arm and looked up at him pleadingly. “Please…..” she said, voice soft, desperate and she sounded so vulnerable.

Robin scowled, her irritation slowly mounting to anger. What did that traitorous copycat have to say to him?

“……okay, I’m listening.” Marcel gave in.

“Claws out.” Chat Noir said and in a flash of green light, Adrianne stood there.

Robin shook her head, disappointed but not surprised. Well, at least now she has solid proof that Adrianne and Chat Noir are one of the same.

Good. That means she only has to slap _one person twice_.

“So what is it you so urgently needed to tell me that it couldn’t wait until tomorrow? Seriously, Adrianne, we’ve talked about this. You need to take that ring seriously.” Marcel scolded.

“Cookie’s right, kitten.” Another voice chimed in, startling Robin. Zooming in she saw a…..mini….floating talking….black cat?

……..okay, what the fu$k?

And ‘Cookie’? God, Robin really wanted to punch someone…..

“You happen to have any cheese, Cookie? I’m starving.” The mini cat went on.

“When are you not?” Marcel said with exasperated fondness. “There’s some in the fridge.”

“Aaaah, sweet camembert!” the mini cat said gleefully as he whizzed off and found the delicacy he wanted. He didn’t waste time in scarfing it down.

Marcel chuckled at the antics of the Kwami of Destruction before turning his attention back to Adrianne, his expression hardening.

“Well? I’m listening.” He said.

Adrianne took a deep breath and opened her eyes, stubborn and firm for once.

“It’s about that Gothamite girl- don’t try to play dumb, Marcel. You know who I’m talking about.” She said.

“I don’t actually. Enlighten me.” Marcel said. Maybe he was being petty but he couldn’t help it. He was still a bit bitter over their argument and they haven’t exactly reconciled since then.

“The one you keep hanging out with since meeting her at Wayne Industries!” Adrianne snapped.

Screw punching, Robin was going to break necks.

“Why are you acting as though she spat in your beancurd?” Marcel asked, getting tired of Adrianne’s ire for Dahlia when his girlfriend’s done little to nothing to provoke her personally.

“You can’t trust that girl, Marcel, there’s something off about her.” Adrianne insisted.

“And what’s that? Please, Adrianne, emphasize what’s wrong with the girl who’s been showing me nothing but support and understanding? The first form of genuine friendly trust and honesty outside of Chris, Sabrina and Alix in the past three years?” Marcel snapped.

Robin felt a surge of pride and relished at how Adrianne was slightly taken aback before she composed herself again.

“She’s a Gothamite, Marcel. Are you sure she’s a saint?” Adrianne asked.

Robin resisted the urge to growl. Gotham may not be the most stellar city in the world but she took pride in the land she protects and guards with her life alongside her family.

“And we’re both members of the akuma class, you sure we’re not Hawkmoth’s lackeys?” Marcel snapped back. “Look, Adrianne, I don’t care what you think. Dahlia has been nothing but kind to me since we met. She’s a good person and to hell if you don’t like her just because she’s willing to stand up for me!”

“What if she’s just using you? What if she’s just playing with you?” Adrianne asked vehemently.

“You know Adrianne, I’m not the same clumsy shy jittery baker’s boy from three years ago. Trust me, I know what heartbreak’s like.” Marcel said bitterly.

Robin….couldn’t help but notice the hurt in Marcel’s voice and how raw and _personal_ it felt. Did he……did he and Adrianne……did he once….love Adrianne? Did he once have feelings for her? Feelings beyond friendship?

That thought made her want to cry, vomit, scream and hell’s teeth, she really wanted to run her blade through that blonde Barbie’s heart now.

“You don’t need her, Marcel. You already have Chris, Sabrina, Alix, your parents who actually give a damn about you, Luka, Kagami and I. You have me, don’t you? Why are you so deadset on her?” Adrianne hissed.

Marcel just stared at her, eyes wide and baffled at the last part. What the hell did she-

“I have you?” he spat sarcastically, his eyes narrowing. “Last I checked, I’m pretty sure I made it clear that you didn’t and clearly, you still don’t!”

“Can you just forget about Lila-”

“THIS ISN’T ABOUT LILA!” Marcel snapped. “Jesus Christ- my world does not fu$king revolve around that lying witch! Hell, I’d rather live in a world where she doesn’t exist at all. This isn’t about Lila, it was _never_ about Lila! This is about my own personal mental/emotional state, my own happiness- since when was wanting to be happy a crime? Tell me Adrianne, what’s so wrong about wanting to be happy?”

Adrianne’s mouth opened and closed but no words came out.

“Stop wasting your breath. Or did you just come here to make sure I didn’t rat you out to Red Beetle?” Marcel asked sarcastically.

That snapped Adrianne out of her stupor.

“Wha- no, I mean, you could b-but I know you wouldn’t and-” she fumbled.

“It is!” he realized. “My god- you seriously think I’d stoop that low?! You really thought I was that petty?” he asked, eyes hurt.

“No! I didn’t! It wasn’t that!” Adrianne insisted.

“Then what is it? One last chance before I ask that you leave.” Marcel growled.

“She’s taking you away from me, Marcel!” she snapped.

“This girl has serious issues.” Batgirl muttered through the comms and Robin honestly agreed.

Again, Marcel was left baffled before indignation surged through him.

“Who died and made you my keeper? I’m not property and I sure as hell don’t belong to you!” He hissed. 

“Wha-no, I mean, I-uh-” Adrianne was just as shocked herself honestly. What and why the hell did she just say that?!

“It’s the miraculous side effects, Cookie. It’s making the kitten territorial.” Plagg chimed in, deciding the drama’s gone on long enough for Marcel to give his piece.

“What?” Marcel asked.

“Plagg, shut up.” Adrianne hissed.

Plagg ignored her and went on.

“She’s getting clingy and territorial. Like a cat that gets hissy when their favourite toy or meal is taken away from under their paws. She’s obsessed with you- not in a romantic way per se but still. That’s what cha get for being so chummy with her in both personas.” He explained before stuffing another wedge of camembert into his mouth.

“So that’s what all this has been about?!” Marcel asked, gesturing to everything and nothing in particular.

“Mmhm.” Plagg said through his mouthful of cheese.

“Are the side effects that strong?” he asked. “I mean, I know Red Beetle gets lethargic during winter.”

“I’m right here you know.” Adrianne pointed out.

‘Unfortunately.’ Robin mentally snorted.

“Red Beetle’s side effects aren’t that volatile cuz he’s more in tune with his kwami. Can’t say the same for kitten here.” Plagg said.

Adrianne glared at him and hissed, slightly offended that he was offhandedly saying her skills were inferior compared to her partner’s.

Marcel sighed. “Adrianne, you’ve got to get a grip on it. It’s one thing for you to ruin my yarns.”

“Sorry.” She said apologetically.

“It’s another for you to use my chaise longue as a scratching post.” He added.

“I said I’m sorry.” She mumbled.

“But you can’t go on a hissy fit everytime I’m nice to someone and make a new friend. It’s my life and you can’t dictate it. Dahlia is a good person. Don’t you trust my judge of character?” he asked.

“………..okay.” she said softly, finally looking up at him and holding his gaze for the first time in days. “I trust you.” She said with more certainty.

Marcel’s shoulder slumped and his face softened. “Thank you.”

“No it’s…..” she shook her head and sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “God, the past few days have been tense and it’s killing me. I’m….I’m sorry we’ve been doing nothing but disagreeing and arguing and I’m sorry if I went too far back then at Wayne Industries.

“You’re my best friend Marcel. I know we may not be close enough to call one another that anymore but you’re still my friend and I care about you. I just don’t want to see all this unnecessary violence. Lila’s not the nicest girl in the world but she’s kinda my friend too, y’know? Just...try to give her a chance.” Adrianne said, face contrite.

“I have, Adrianne. Whether she takes it or not isn’t up to me.” Marcel sighed. “Look, it’s been a long day and it’s late. Let’s just hit the hay already, kay?”

“Okay.” She relented. “Take care and…be careful around that girl, Dahlia or whatever. She could be dangerous. She could hurt you.”

Robin glared at the insolent blonde for ever implying that she would intentionally harm Marcel in any way.

“I can take care of myself. I don’t need nine lives to do that.” He said.

“I know.” Adrianne said with a smile.

Then she stepped forward and tenderly wrapped her arms around him in a hug. Standing on her tiptoes, she pressed a kiss against Marcel’s cheek.

Robin gritted her teeth and felt her hand clench the hilt of her katana so tight, she threatened to break it. The pure anger and vicious indignation surging through her was oh so tempting to just give in to.

‘Oh. No. She. Didn’t.’ she growled. Breathe, deep breathes, control. Control. _Control yourself._

“Rob, calm down. She isn’t worth it.” Nightwing hissed through the comms.

Right, he’s right. She isn’t worth it either.

Marcel for his part was taken aback by the affection and seemed mildly perturbed himself. Nonetheless, he plastered on a smile and gently pushed her away.

“Night, Prince.” Adrianne said with a smile and Robin couldn’t stop the sour taste rising in her throat because god, she wished she could be the one in his arms right now giving him that smile.

“Goodnight, Adrianne.” Then Marcel nodded towards the door. “Door’s that way Mlle. Cat Burglar.” He joked, unlocking it and opening it for her.

She smiled at him once more before sauntering off, her hips swaying slightly like a model on a runway.

As soon as Marcel locked the door again, he released a long weary sigh, pressing his back against the door.

Robin simply kept the mini spy telescope back into her utility belt and stepped out of the closet with a schooled expression, a stoic mask she had meticulously carved and worn more times than she could count.

“Sorry you had to witness that whole drama-fest.” Marcel weakly joked.

“Beats the reruns on TV.” Robin quipped. Then her tone turned dead serious. “She knows that you know her secret.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Yeah.” He sighed. “It was an accident, really. She dropped by my balcony just as she detransformed and I was there when it happened.” He explained.

“And she knows you’re close to Red Beetle.” Robin added. “Marcel, if she’s turned on him or worse, _both_ she and Lila are working together to undermine him, this puts you at an even larger risk.”

“She wouldn’t hurt me. Trust me, if she wanted to, she would’ve.” Marcel told her with such cold certainty it chilled her.

“Why did you push me in the closet? A little warning would’ve been nice.” Robin said, placing a hand on her hip.

“Didn’t have time to offer an invitation. Besides, if you two saw each other, things might’ve gone ugly.” He said.

“I assure you, I’ve taken on cretins _worse_ than a blonde model in a catsuit with magical jewelry.” She sniffed.

“Robin, she has the power to disintegrate anything and _anyone_ with a mere graze of her fingers. And if you were listening earlier, which I’m pretty sure you were, you and I both know Adrianne has certain….issues.” he pointed out.

“All the more reason to be prudent to take action.” Robin stubbornly shot back. “If the ring is truly making her dangerously unstable, shouldn’t we at least remove it from her?”

Marcel bit his lip and looked away. He’d be lying if he said that hadn’t crossed his mind before.

“Robin, look, Chat Noir trusts me. Shouldn’t we make the most out of that? She still has no idea that you and the Bats are already onto her. I say we keep the element of surprise for as long as possible.” He eventually said.

“What’s stopping her from ratting you out to her dear old daddy?” Robin pointed out.

“She can try.” Was all Marcel said, bluebell eyes as hard as steel.

Robin gritted her teeth. Good god, Marcel was stubborn…..it was admirable, once again making her respect towards him as a fighter advance.

While it made her love him even more, it also made her want to slap him silly.

“Are you going to tell me what the mini floating talking cat is? Plagg, was it?” she asked, deciding to change the subject.

“Oh….right….yeah, about that…..” Marcel rubbed the back of his neck, unsure if he should reveal that particular detail about the miraculous.

“Marcel…..” Robin said slowly but firmly. “Is there something about the miraculous that you’re not telling me?” she asked, the white lenses domino mask narrowed.

“He’s a kwami. In this case, he’s the Black Cat Kwami of Destruction, Misfortune and Chaos.” Marcel explained.

“I take it kwamis are like….divine spirits of sorts?” Robin asked, her mind already reviewing every piece of information she had related to this; Shazam was more or less an example as was Firestorm in a way despite the science involved in the latter’s.

Marcel nodded. “They’re small gods believe it or not. All of them are an embodiment of an abstract concept. Every abstract idea or emotion is embodied in a kwami. In this case, Red Beetle’s kwami which is the Ladybug Kwami of Life, Creation and Fortune was one of the first kwamis to come into existence.”

“You seem quite knowledgeable about this.” Robin remarked.

Realizing he might be giving too much away, Marcel made sure to school his expression.

“Well I am Red Beetle’s informant so to speak.” He replied coolly. “Plus, when you have Red Beetle on speed dial and Chat Noir who gives daily visits on your balcony, you pick up a few things.” He added with a shrug.

“What’s a kwami’s connection to a miraculous?” Robin asked, moving on.

“They’re what supplies the miraculous with their powers. Actually, when you think about, the miraculous jewellery itself is more of a conduit between the kwami and the wielder. Without a kwami, a miraculous is practically useless, just another piece of powerless jewellery.” Marcel explained.

“Do you know Red Beetle’s kwami?” Robin asked.

“You mean Tikki?” Marcel said.

Then his stomach dropped as he realized what he just blurted out. _Merde_ , he slipped.

He could see the gears turning in Robin’s mind, the suspicion gradually connecting the dots. Her brows were furrowed and….had he not been panicked over his own screw-up, he would’ve once again noticed that the expression looked so familiar.

“I once helped him when he was in a tight spot. That’s how I found out about his kwami. I’ve only seen her once or twice.” He quickly said, hoping to sway her suspicions.

“I’m….confused, Marcel. From what I can see, kwamis are sentient beings of intelligence with their own free will. If Chat Noir has turned on Red Beetle, how can he go along with it? Is it possible or kwamis to turn evil?” Robin asked.

“No. Kwamis have always been a force of good, even the ones who embody negative abstracts like Plagg. It’s the wielder that’s either good or evil. Trust me when I say a miraculous can be abused-Hawkmoth is a prominent example of that.

“The downside of a kwami is that they’re linked to the miraculous which means, in a way, they’re bound to their wielder. Their wielder can choose to enslave them if they wanted. That’s why the miraculous can never fall into the wrong hands.” Marcel said.

“Plagg is Chat Noir’s kwami, if she truly has switched sides, can’t he warn you? You seem to be on friendly terms with him.” She asked.

“Not directly- it’s not as simple as that. For all I know, Adrianne either renounces Plagg whenever she meets up with Hawkmoth or worse, she can simply order him to keep quiet about it and he’ll have no choice but to comply. But he is keeping an eye on her to do what he can to help.

“So far, he hasn’t found much either. He’s trying to rein her in a bit and steer her back in the right path but….even he can tell she’s listening less and less nowadays.” Marcel said.

“So there’s no way for a kwami to defy against their wielder?” Robin asked, feeling a pang of pity that such beautiful divine creatures have to endure such a harsh fate.

“Again, not directly. I mean, Plagg can still defy Adrianne in small subtle ways. But one thing all kwamis have in common regardless if their wielder is good or evil is that they can’t reveal the identity of their wielder to anyone, have it be a civilian or a fellow miraculous wielder. It’s part of the magic package.” he explained.

"Considering how sloppy the kitten is, I probably wouldn’t have to do that anyways.” Another voice chimed in, startling them.

Robin reacted with lightning fast reflexes, throwing a shuriken towards the source before Marcel could stop her.

Fortunately, Plagg just stretched a small paw out, disintegrating the shuriken before it could hit him.

Robin’s jaw dropped at the sheer destruction this puny creature that was barely bigger than her palm held in its tiny paw.

“Calm down tweety bird.” Plagg said.

“Plagg? What are you doing here?” Marcel asked.

“Relax, I knew the little birdie was here from the very beginning. Must’ve been real juicy to have a front row seat to the whole dramafest huh?” Plagg said.

“This isn’t a joke.” Robin snapped, scowling at him.

“Sheesh, someone’s a killjoy.” Plagg huffed though internally….he had to admit, he was grudgingly impressed.

Whether the girl knew it or not, she was merely solidifying his belief that she truly is the right candidate to be his wielder….not that either of them needed to know that.

_Yet._

And yeah, he knew who she was beneath the green domino mask already. He just hoped Marcel would be able to figure it out soon too for the sake of his own sanity. Kwami help them all if there’s a love square.

“So.” He flew over and hovered in front of Robin’s face, his green slitted cat eyes scanning her up and down. “You’re Batman’s partner? The Girl Wonder of Gotham?”

“That title is overrated. It’s Boy Wonder and it was carried by my predecessor. I assure you, I am more than worthy of carrying on the mantle.” She sniffed, staring down at him with eyes of steel.

“Oooooh, tweety here’s got claws. Nice.” He said, unfazed.

“Plagg, you shouldn’t here. What if Adrianne finds out?” Marcel hissed.

“The kitten’s doesn’t have the sharpest claws in the litter and she’s sound asleep. Wouldn’t have come otherwise.” Plagg waved off. “But if tweety bird is here and you two are all chummy, I take it everything went well.”

Marcel nodded, a hopeful smile on his face. “We’re getting help.”

“Finally!” then Plagg’s tone turned more serious. “And Red Beetle?”

“I’ve already told them everything they need to know. No more, no less.” Marcel reassured.

“Oh, there’s more?” Robin asked dryly.

“You don’t even know the half of it, birdie.” Plagg snickered. “Anywho, I’m gonna go take a much needed catnap. You two should too, especially you Cookie. Don’t cha have plans with another lovebird tomorrow?”

“Plagg!” Marcel hissed, face turning red.

Robin turned away, hoping her face wasn’t in a similar condition as she was reminded of the meet-up she told Marcel she’d come to tomorrow morning…..technically in a few hours considering the time already.

“Ah such conflict between two fair maidens! Whose hand shall thou choose to accept and embrace in your heart?” Plagg went on dramatically.

“There’s nothing going on between us!” Robin snapped perhaps a bit too heatedly.

“You sure bout that?” Plagg asked her, his green eyes glinting with a smug knowing look.

“L-look, I don’t want to make it sound like I’m chasing you away but I think it’s time you head back to your leader. It’s late enough as it is.” Marcel gently nudged.

“My leader?” Robin echoed.

“Yeah, Batman’s your leader, right?” Marcel asked.

“Right, he is,” Robin smoothly said.

“………..is he more than just your leader?” he asked.

“What are you implying?” she asked warily.

“I mean….he seems like a caring person deep down. I’m sorry if it’s personal but…is he like a father to you too?” he asked.

‘Oh you have no idea.’ She thought.

“…..yes.” she admitted softly. “Something like that.”

Marcel smiled. “He’s lucky to have you for a daughter.”

From the comms, Robin’s pretty sure she heard someone coo.

“Goodnight, Robin.” Marcel said and gave her another brief hug. “Thanks again for going through the trouble of dropping by.”

This time, she smiled and readily returned the hug.

“Anytime, angel.” She said softly.

Marcel froze as the nickname registered.

Angel……..

In his state of shock, he didn’t notice Robin leave until he heard the flutter of her cape as she swung off into the distance.

Angel.

The black shoulder-length asymmetrical bob hair.

The voice.

Her personality.

The obvious concern she showed that transcended past the bond of a vigilante and a saved civilian.

The mutual understanding, respect and steadfast support.

And then the lingering question in the recesses of his mind came back- reminding him that he _still_ didn't know how Dahlia knew which hotel he was staying at specifically when he doesn't remember explicitly telling her himself....but he _did_ tell _Robin_ on the first night.

It…..couldn’t be…..

Could it?

* * *

“My god, that boy is too sweet.” Barbara said. “He almost gave me diabetes.” 

“Then it’s settled.” Dick said, clapping his hand. “Timmy Boy, draw up those adoption papers.”

“Grayson, Drake, _NO._ ” Dahlia groaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dahlia, like her father, knows she is threading on...foreign land here. Let's face it, the girl is emotionally constipated like her father but she's TRYING. Still, sometimes she can't help but feel a bit overwhelmed by it all.  
> Also slightly long explanation up ahead. It's to differentiate how things went between Marcel and Lila comapared to canon Marinette and Lila.
> 
> Unlike in canon, Marcel is less jealous. Yes, he still called Lila out as Red Beetle the first time but only because he couldn't stand someone slandering his reputation and putting herself in danger just for attention. During Chameleon, yes, Marcel was a bit hurt at being pushed to the back without being asked but was more pragmatic and philosophical. He went along with it readily compared to his canon counterpart. And being the nice but slightly naive boy he still was back then, he even offered to help Lila himself.  
> While he did disapprove of Lila's lies, he wasn't that vehement on pointing them out at first until he saw that some of his classmates were taking Lila's empty promises seriously. That's when he put his foot down and tried to call Lila out. Unlike in canon, he tried to do this in the courtyard but Lila slipped past him. Later on, it was then she confronted him in the toilet.  
> As for Lila in this fic, she had to admit that she saw Marcel as a potential good asset due to the fact that he was class rep/president. After finding out about his accomplishments, noticing how much everyone respected/liked him and realizing he was admittedly attractive, she started to develop a 'crush' on him. Her 'love' for him is similar to the twisted 'love' her canon counterpart has for canon Adrian.  
> At first, she even flirted with Marcel like she first did upon meeting Adrian but everytime, Marcel awkwardly but firmly rejected her, brushed it off or didn't notice. It frustrated her but made her all the more determined to make him bend.  
> It was when he started trying to call her out that she showed her true colours. Since then, her main priority was to make sure her classmates and teacher were kept under her thumb, Adrianne was kept in line, she stayed on Gabriel/Hawkmoth's good side, undermining Red Beetle and eventually, getting Marcel.  
> Most of the time, she uses her usual lies and manipulation but occasionally, when she's with him alone and no one else is around well.......yeah. No need to delve into details.


	11. Talking (and Cuddling) Helps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcel and Dahlia talk.....and cuddle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Once again, sexual harassment will be mentioned. Read at your own risk.  
> But don't worry, there will also be fluff.

Dahlia plucked off a piece of fuzz on her sweater. Checking her reflection, she was proud of the outfit she chose without the help of Gordon for once.

A simple grey knitted sweater with maroon skinny jeans and black ankle boots. Picking up a purse to match her shoes- and carry any weapons/gadgets she might need should there be an emergency- and ensuring her utility belt was securely hidden under her sweater- again, precautions must be taken- she stepped downstairs.

“Good morning, Pennyworth.” She greeted, graciously accepting the cup of tea the butler served her.

“Good morning, Mistress Dahlia. I trust you are well-rested despite the shorter hours of sleep last night?” he asked.

“I’m fine. Your worries are unfounded.” She reassured.

“As gratifying as that is, I can’t say the same for your worries, I take it?” he simply said with that oh so familiar knowing look.

“Hopefully that will be dealt with today.” Dahlia told him swiftly.

Draining the last of her tea, she stood up and placed her sunglasses on her head.

“I’ll be borrowing the Lamborghini.” She informed him.

“Could you kindly be more specific?” Alfred asked with a raised brow.

“You’ll know it when you miss it.” Dahlia coolly replied with a smirk, spinning the keys on her fingers before sauntering off.

Alfred just shook his head.

She really is her father’s daughter.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Dahlia entered the lobby and saw Marcel waiting there, punctual as ever. But even from a distance, she saw his slouched posture and as she gradually came closer, she could see the bags under his eyes, his raven hair messier than usual.

“Oh-morning, Dahlia.” He said, giving her a bright smile but it was dimmed by his exhaustion.

“Morning, angel.” She said softly, giving him a peck on the cheek. “Rough night?”

Marcel shrugged. “Didn’t get much sleep.” He said.

That was nothing new to him though. At this point, sleep deprivation was the norm for him. Some nights he went without sleep at all.

“Why? Nightmares?” Dahlia asked, brows furrowed in concern. Did he suffer from nightmares or insomnia like Tim?

“Guess the excitement of yesterday still lingered in my veins.” He half-joked, trying to make light of it.

“Are you hungry?” Dahlia asked, realizing she had to play her cards carefully if she wanted to get him to open up seriously.

“Not really.” He said, looking away, propping an elbow up on the armrest and placing his chin in his hand.

He…..he couldn’t look at her. He didn’t know if it was because of the iron balls rolling in his stomach or the fact that his mind kept nagging with a vengeance of the possibility that Dahlia and Robin were-

No! No, _do not_ go there, he already had enough to worry about. He didn’t need to add that onto his already cracked porcelain plate.

“Did you have breakfast?” she asked instead.

“What happens if I say no?” he asked.

At that her face hardened, her jaw setting firmly and emerald eyes turning steely.

“You’re going to eat something or I’ll be shoving something up to a very unpleasant place in your body.” She told him curtly.

Marcel opened his mouth to protest only to find himself getting straightened up to his feet- holy dayum, Dahlia is strong- and practically dragged towards a Lamborghini- at this point, he’s just surprised he hasn’t seen a Rolls Royce yet.

He blinked and suddenly, he was buckled up in the front seat while Dahlia was driving in the driver’s, her sunglasses on.

“…………..didja hafta kidnap me?” he asked her dryly.

“I’m a pragmatic person, Marcel.” Was all she said.

“You know, saying ‘please’ is pretty pragmatic too.” Marcel pointed out.

“What can I say? I’m a stubborn girl.” Marcel yelped as they took a rather sharp turn, tyres screeching against the gravel. “I get what I want.”

“Never took you for the domineering type.” He said, gripping onto the oh shit bar for dear life now. On the plus side, this was definitely keeping him alertly awake.

“I thought you’d learn by now that I’m not just a pretty face.” She said with a smirk before taking another turn. At least Marcel was prepared for the recoil this time.

“I’m scared now.” Marcel squeaked.

“I’m offended.” Dahlia said.

“Can you blame me? For all I know, you’re about to take me to the docks so you can dispose the body!” he yelped.

Dahlia just sighed and shook her head.

“Either you haven’t had coffee yet or you’ve had too much coffee.” She remarked.

“Well in my defence, it’s the former.” He said.

“Then let’s fix that.” She said.

Taking another turn- this one at a sedater pace- she pulled up in front of a café.

“…………..I’m driving back.” Was all Marcel said before scrambling out and feeling sweet steady pavement under his feet.

“I thought you liked a bit of excitement every now and then.” She teased.

“I think I had more than enough of that yesterday.” He quipped back, harsher than he intended. He winced- god, he must’ve been a jerk.

“Sorry.” He said softly.

“Hey.” Dahlia said, gently grabbing his hand and caressing his cheek. “Eat. And after that, we’ll go back and we can talk. Take as much time as you need, alright? I’m here.”

He smiled.

“Have I told you I love you?” he asked.

“You can stand to mention it more.” She said teasingly, coyly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I love you.” He said, pressing a quick kiss to her lips.

She smiled.

“Now let’s get you something to eat and before you ask.” She whipped out her gold credit card, the piece of plastic shining in between her fingers. “It’s on me.”

“I’d say no but that’d probably be redundant.” He said.

“Fast learner too it seems.” She mused aloud before hooking hands and striding inside with him.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“Make yourself at home.” Marcel said, letting her in like the gentleman he is.

Dahlia walked inside and took a seat, crossing one leg over the other and for a moment, Marcel didn’t see Dahlia.

He saw Robin.

“…Marcel? Are you okay?” Dahlia asked worryingly. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

Oh god, please don’t tell her he actually did see one. If Deadman was here, she’d personally see to it that he’s dead three times over again.

“Nothing just……..nothing.” he said, shaking his head.

“I’d ask if you’re okay but…that’d be pretty redundant.” She stated bluntly.

“Yeah.” He sighed, slumping down beside her. He ran a hand through his hair, making it even messier.

He looked the very picture of a mess and considering she had Tim Drake for a brother, that’s saying something.

“I-” the words lodged in his throat as a lump formed. “I…..” he closed his eyes, trying to rein himself in.

Come on, he managed to open up to frickin Batman and a majority of his family last night on a rooftop, surely he can do it again with his own girlfriend.

“Remember how you asked me if….anything else happened yesterday? Before the Royal Flush Gang showed up?” he started.

Dahlia simply nodded. She said nothing, she was there to simply listen and offer a shoulder of support….or from the looks of things, a shoulder to cry on.

“Remember that girl in my class? The Italian? The one with the sausage hair?” he added.

“Unfortunately, yes.” She couldn’t help but say.

“Well she…….” He sighed, burying his face in his hands.

“Take your time.” She soothed, rubbing gentle circles on his back.

Had he not been in such a mess, he would’ve how familiar that action felt.

“I’ll….start from the beginning but before I do, can you promise me this?” he asked.

“Anything.” She swore.

“That you won’t…..you won’t do anything stupid. Just hear me out and promise me that you’ll keep this between us.” He said.

“Cross my heart and hope to die.” She told him seriously.

“Okay….well……”

And so he got it all out. He spilled it all out- all the lies, all the empty promises, the manipulation and rumours; all the betrayal and loneliness. How everyone from the classmates he knew since _l'ecole primaire,_ his own ‘BFF’ and childhood friends to his own teacher and principal turned on him.

“And he just expelled me! Right there on the spot, he just kicked me out without even doing a proper investigation. As though the guy knew shit about actual protocol. As though he forgot that we live in the fu$king 21st century and we have something called surveillance cameras installed!” Marcel went on, voice laden with bitter frustration.

“Then again that’s probably expecting too much considering they don’t seem to even have basic common sense. How the hell does one ‘fall down the stairs’ without a single scratch? Trust me when I saw I’d know, I’m pretty experienced in terms of clumsiness.”

Screw suing, Dahlia was tempted to just ask Todd to help her commit arson on the school.

“The guy’s a broken reed. And he has the gall to think of himself as a hero. Did I tell you about the time he actually put on a costume and went around town calling himself ‘The Owl’?” he went on.

Dahlia grimaced because sadly, she very much did. She did read the files and memorized them after all.

“Not to mention how biased he is. God knows how many times he doesn’t do his job just so he stays on the good side of the wealthier parents.” Marcel added bitterly.

“So there’s favouritism going on?” Dahlia asked. Time to kill two birds with one stone.

“Yeah. He never actually makes the wealthier students own up to their actions. Everytime the other students complain about it or file a report, he just sweeps it under the rug. Wouldn’t be surprised if he was taking bribes from them even.” Marcel said.

Maybe she could call Katana in for a favour too and ask her to just suck his soul out. From the way things looked, Dahlia doubted he ever had one to begin with.

“And your homeroom teacher is no better.” She stated.

“Lila’s got her wrapped around her little finger too. She never even asked for a doctor’s note for all her ‘diseases’ and ‘disabilities’, hell, I’m willing to bet she doesn’t even put in much effort to actually contact her mother to talk to her about this.” He sighed.

Dahlia shook her head. As her father’s daughter, she’s seen her fair share of corruption in places as big as politics to business corporates to subtler but no less vile places like education.

“And Lila she…..god, where do I start?” he slumped back against his seat, looking absolutely drained.

“How bout we catch a breather for a moment.” Dahlia gently suggested. “I’ll get you a drink.”

“No, I’ll-” Dahlia gave him another stern look and he caved. “Fine.”

One glass of water later and they were back on track.

“I didn’t really dwell on it at first. I mean, initially I just thought she wanted attention…she wanted friends, to be popular, the usual cliché stuff, y’know? But then she started giving my friends empty promises, offering false hope and I realized they were actually taking it seriously.

“Think about it- what if they actually take Lila’s ‘promise’ seriously? What if they don’t apply for internships or scholarships o-or events that could give them the crucial credentials they need for their ambitions? And then what? Lila just gives them a half-ass excuse? Empty platitudes? Will there be another second chance?” Marcel said.

Dahlia shook her head slightly. Even after all this time…he still cared for those ungrateful plebeians. They really don’t deserve his sympathy, much less his compassion.

“So I put my foot down and told her to stop it. She can lie to get as popular as she wants but I wasn’t going to let her play with their hopes and dreams and make all their efforts go to waste. I tried to tell her that at the courtyard but the witch slipped away.

“The next day, _she_ cornered _me_ in the toilets and she……” he swallowed, the cup shaking in his trembling grip, causing the water inside to swish around.

Dahlia just continued to rub gentle circles on his back, giving him soothing support. She also pried the glass of water away so he doesn’t spill it or worse, shatter the glass itself.

“She threatened me. Gave me an ultimatum to bow down and become her goddamn boy toy or lose all my friends.” He shook his head. “I chose the latter, obviously. And as you can guess, she didn’t like that and…..”

He looked down in shame.

“She started to touch me and I hated it. She hadn’t gone too far, thank goodness for small graces but still, she kept touching me and I told her to stop, I didn’t want her to but she didn’t listen and kept going and I-I wanted to fight back but I was so scared, I was paralyzed and I was so helpless and stupid I-” his words broke off in a sob after that.

“Be-before all that sh-she had already been…y’know, flirting and all that and I brushed it off, thought it was ju-just me being shy and flustered and she was just teasing and all but then she kept going and…..” he paused to wipe away the tears and clear his throat.

“For the past three years, she normally just sticks to her lies, rumours and manipulation but sometimes…sometimes when it’s just me and her and we’re alone she……” he got no further as the sobs came back.

Shame overwhelmed him, drowning him, making him wish he could just closed his eyes and go deep down under, never resurfacing. God, Dahlia must be disappointed that her boyfriend was such a hussy-

“Marcel?” her voice asked. It was so soft and gentle and it was devoid of any revulsion or disappointment.

He glanced up at her hesitatingly.

“I……do you want a hug?” she asked gently.

He threw his arms around her in response because right now, he needed this, he just needed her to simply be there for him to ground him.

He buried his face in her shoulder and cried.

Dahlia said nothing.

She just wrapped her arms around him and gently carded her fingers through his raven locks.

“I’m here for you, Angel. I’m here for you.” She whispered soothingly.

They didn’t know how long they stayed like that, one embracing the other as he cried and released years of pent up fear, anxiety and helplessness. Frankly, they couldn’t care less if millennium passed.

They had each other and that’s all that mattered.

Eventually, Marcel’s sobs gradually lessened to sniffles and the occasional hiccup, his body’s trembling ceased and his breathing evened out.

“I…I’m…better now. Thanks.” He said, voice nasally and hoarse from all the crying.

Wordlessly, Dahlia passed him the cup of water to drink again. He graciously accepted it.

“Have you told….anyone about this? Anyone at all?” Dahlia asked.

“Chris, Sabrina and Alix more or less know but we haven’t been able to get any solid evidence to hold against Lila and well….her mom’s a diplomat at the Italian Embassy so she has diplomatic immunity.” He grimaced.

“Marcel, diplomatic immunity merely prevents them from being harassed by the media. It doesn’t give them an excuse to commit whatever crime they want without consequences. Having diplomatic immunity doesn’t mean that witch can be such an incorrigible, repulsive, disgusting cretin who doesn’t deserve to exist.” Dahlia told him.

“Didn’t take you for the political type.” Marcel joked.

“I am a woman of many talents. Fortunately, I am a law-abiding citizen.” She said, repeating the exact same line she told him that night on the rooftop of Wayne Industries.

Marcel laughed- and it was genuine and pure melody to Dahlia’s ears.

“Thanks.” He said. “Thanks for….everything. For just being here right now, _mon gardienne ange_.”

“ _Mon gardienne ange_?” she asked.

“You call me Angel, I find _gardienne ange_ rather fitting for such a capable strong woman such as yourself.” He told her earnestly.

“I’m honored.” She told him.

“As am I.” he said, gently cupping her face.

Closing their eyes, they leaned forward and kissed. In that moment, Marcel realized he’s felt lighter than he’s felt in three years. The taint he felt clinging onto his skin finally washing away as he soaked in Dahlia’s mere presence.

“I think I’ve reached my limit of emotional drain.” Marcel said. “You….wanna stick around? Watch some telly? I heard they might be broadcasting some movies today.”

“Anything is enjoyable when I do it with you, Angel.” Dahlia said, tenderly kissing his cheek.

And so they settled side by side, Marcel’s arm wrapped around Dahlia’s shoulders as she snuggled by his side. Dahlia noticed he smelled like cookies, white tea and ginger.

Marcel closed his eyes and sighed contentedly. Dahlia reminded him of lavender- earthly floral and calming.

“We should do this more often.” He said, pressing a kiss on the top of her hair.

“Hm?” she asked.

“Cuddle and snuggle. I like cuddling with you.” He said.

“Me too.” She said, leaning her head against his shoulder, eyes closed in content.

The noise emitting from the TV faded into irrelevant background white noise as they sat there, cuddled in one another’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dahlia is a softie on the inside. She's like a cat- she has her claws and fangs, she's hissy and territorial but the girl loves her cuddles.  
> Also, gardienne ange is French for guardian angel. I contemplated having Marcel call Dahlia princess but considering the nickname Chat calls him....nah.  
> Next chapter will introduce a new character who puts the girl in super. ;D


	12. Hi! I’m Dahlia’s (Super) Bestie!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dahlia's bestie from Metropolis tags along-enter Joan!; Chris realizes tagging along as a third-wheel wasn't such a bad idea after all; Joan notices some things and informs Dahlia...........Dahlia is worried for her boyfriend and wonders just how far is he in all this, really?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be mentions of injuries up ahead. Not sure if it counts as gore but....just thought I'd give a heads-up just in case. Also, please note:  
> Jon/ Jonathan- Joan/ Joanna

Closing her eyes, she sighed in content, relishing the freedom as she soared through the air, the wind ruffling her hair and clothes; the sun kissing her skin, rejuvenating her and the soft clouds lazily floating by.

As awesome as it was to be in the big cities to fight bad guys and put bullies in their place- oh and hang out with her other fellow superhero friends- Joan knew that Smallville, Kansas will always have a special place in her heart.

“Joan! It’s time for supper!” she heard Ma call from below.

“Coming Ma!” she shouted back before flying back down. Her feet lightly touched the grass, barely making a sound.

“You’re just like you father.” Ma said with a fond shake of her head. “Always getting his head lost in the clouds.”

“Speaking of dad, any word from him or mom yet?” she asked.

“Yes dear. Your mom said she’ll be back in town by tomorrow and your father said he’s dropping by in the afternoon today. Y’know, so his boss doesn’t get suspicious of his long absence.” She said.

Not too long ago, her mom had to leave for Jump City to uncover another hot scoop for the Daily Planet while her dad had to take leave to deal with League business. And even before that, she noticed he’d been busy- trying to dig some info about something regarding Paris, she thinks.

She wanted to tag along with either one of her folks but both were adamant she enjoyed her break and sent her to stay with Ma and Pa for a while.

Much as she loved her grandparents, she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t itching for some excitement.

“Y’know, your Pa and I were thinking of heading over to town to catch up with some old friends.” Ma said. “You’ll probably be bored out of your mind, listening to a buncha old folks like us talking and playing country music.”

“Wha- no, Ma. I would love to go. You know I don’t mind tagging along.” She said.

“So you don’t wanna head over to Gotham to see that bestie of yours?” Ma asked cheekily.

Joan perked up.

“So you’re saying…..” she could barely contain her excitement as she began to practically vibrate on the spot.

“Just be back before supper.” Ma said.

“WHOO!” she cheered. “Thanks, Ma.” She said, giving her a hug and a cheek.

“I’ll keep in touch!” she shouted back before flying off towards Gotham.

* * *

Dahlia hummed as she walked through Gotham Park with Titus. Today was a good day; the sun was shining and for once, the usual drafty chilly winds that were a norm in Gotham were replaced with actual warmth and a cloudy sky.

Titus barked, seeming happier than usual himself.

“I know, boy. Beautiful day today, huh?” she cooed, patting his head. “Excited to meet him?”

Titus barked twice, voicing his own agreement.

Dahlia chuckled, giving him a treat before going back to the car. She promised Marcel that she’d hang out with him and Chris today and introduce them to Titus, best if she didn’t-

She paused.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

Whipping around, she flicked her wrist and felt the shuriken settle into her palm. In one fluid, motion, she threw it and sent it flying towards the infidel who dared try to-

“Whoa! Chill!” said a familiar voice as she effortlessly caught the shuriken, crumpling it in her grip as though it were merely paper.

Dahlia instantly recognized who it was.

“The heck, girl?! You could’ve killed me.” Joan said indignantly.

Dahlia scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Don’t be such a drama queen. We both know that’s a lie.”

“Gee, nice to see you too, bestie.” Joan huffed, placing her hands on her hips but still giving Dahlia that darn fond smile.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be ploughing fields and milking cows with your grandparents in Smallville?” she asked.

“Ma and Pa were gonna spend some time together so they gave me permission to come here and hang out with you!” Joan said brightly.

“You’re going to be an adult soon and you still ask for permission to travel independently? Have I taught you nothing?” Dahlia asked, eyes narrowing in disappointment.

“So you _do_ wanna hang out with me?” her half-Kryptonian friend asked.

“I never agreed.” Dahlia snapped.

“You didn’t disagree either.” Joan pointed out.

“I’m disagreeing now. I have plans. Good day to you.” Dahlia huffed, deciding she won’t give Joan the satisfaction.

“Whoa whoa whoa.” In the blink of an eye, she was in front of her, barring her from her car. “What’s your hurry, sister?”

“I have plans which are none of your concern.” She told her curtly.

“Plans? C’mon D, it’s break! School’s out and you can’t possibly be thinking on going out on patrol in this kinda weather. I mean, even bad guys take a break to enjoy the day every once in a while.” Joan said.

“Why don’t you go over to Jump City and pester the Titans? I’m sure Garfield wouldn’t mind hanging out with you.” Dahlia said.

“Yeah but they’re not my bestie, _you_ are! Come on, D, we’ve barely seen one another since break started.” Joan said. “Please?” she added, using her puppy dog eyes.

Those would’ve worked….on anyone else that is.

And Dahlia Wayne was _not_ like anyone else.

“Joan, look, I’d hang out with you if I could but I already made plans with Marcel and-” crap, she’s slipped and opened a can of worms.

“Marcel? Who’s Marcel?” Joan asked, already pouncing on it like a badger to honey.

“Nobody you need to know.” Dahlia snapped brusquely.

Joan looked genuinely hurt now and Dahlia couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty because damn it, while she’d rather stab herself than say it aloud, she truly does care for Joan because deep down, she’s the sister she never had and the best friend she doesn’t deserve who’s willing to put up with her crap.

“If I tell you, you have to swear on your life that you won’t tell another soul.” She said seriously.

“I double cross my heart to take this secret to my grave.” Joan vowed like the Girl Scout she is. Like father like daughter.

“I’m going to hang out with my boyfriend and his best friend.” She said.

“……………………….WHAT?!” Joan screamed.

“Pipe down you fool!” Dahlia hissed.

“I-I’m sorry but- what?! Did you just say boyfriend. As in…..” she did the kissy gesture with her fingers.

Dahlia rolled her eyes.

“Yes, is there any other definition for boyfriend?” she deadpanned.

“But-you-Dahlia-I-how?!” Joan asked, looking flabbergasted as though someone just revealed to her that the Earth isn’t round.

“Whether you believe it or not is irrelevant. That’s what I’m going to do so if you’ll excuse, I rather not keep them waiting.” Dahlia said, brushing past her shellshocked friend to enter her car.

“Hold your horses.” Joan said. The next thing Dahlia knew, she was sliding into the seat beside her.

“What are you doing?” Dahlia growled.

“I’m coming with you.” Joan said stubbornly, defiantly crossing her arms. “I won’t believe it till I see it with my own eyes.”

Dahlia gritted her teeth and gripped her steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip. She wished she’d brought her kryptonite ring along or better yet, her father’s infamous kryptonite brass knuckles.

Knowing her friend was as stubborn as herself, Dahlia decided hey, at least Chris won’t have to worry about being a third wheel or a dog-sitter.

“Fine.” She spat. “But humiliate me and I’ll personally see to it that you’re picking kryptonite out of every bone in your body when I’m through with you.”

“There’s gotta be some kinda catch.” Joan said, unfazed by her threat. “Is it blackmail? Did you threaten him? Is this part of the whole, civilian persona cover personality story thing like what your dad does? Is he a clone? A _robot_?”

“Joan, I advise you to shut up or you kiss any chances of ever finding answers goodbye.” Dahlia hissed.

“………………it’s gotta be a robot or a shape-shifter….or is it another ninja assassin too?” Joan asked again.

“Joan…….” She growled, her patience wearing thin.

“My money’s on the robot or ninja assassin theory.” Joan muttered before finally shutting up.

Dahlia prayed to whatever higher being was listening for patience. If she asked for strength, she’s pretty sure someone’s going to die.

* * *

Chris liked to think of himself as someone who didn’t waver. He wasn’t as cool or refined as Kagami and he lacked her strict uptight finesse but he definitely had class and his own style of doing things.

Right now though? He was seriously wavering in his decision to tag along with Marcel and Dahlia. The true depth of the situation was settling in now, reminding him of the heavy role he was going to be resigned to.

The third-wheel.

Great.

“You didn’t have to come.” Marcel said as though reading his thoughts. “I mean….if you feel like you’d be out of place like a third-wheel….”

“Say third-wheel again and I’ll sting your ass.” Chris snapped. “Sides, someone has to be here to give you the byplay so you don’t screw up and dissolve into a hot mess.”

“I can control myself just fine in front of Dahlia.” Marcel said defensively.

“I’ll believe it when I’ve seen it.” Chris sniffed.

“Why couldn’t you hang with Sabrina or Alix?” Marcel asked.

“Sabrina’s checking out some boring old library while Alix wants to go around Gotham to try and catch all the street art hotspots while the sun’s out. No way am I sitting my ass in a dusty snoozefest and I’m not killing these loafers by letting Alix drag me around town on a pointless art fiasco.” Chris snorted.

“Okay. Don’t say I didn’t ask.” Marcel shrugged. He turned around and perked up when he saw Dahlia.

“There she is!” he said, excitedly waving at her only to pause and do a double-take as he noticed something.

“Who’s the chic that’s tagging along with her?” Chris asked noticing too.

On the other end, Joan noticed the two French boys long before the ravenette started waving at them.

“Is that him?” she asked Dahlia. Using her superpowers, she zoomed in and-

“Oh my god, he’s so cute!” she squealed. “You sure he’s the one?”

“Yes, Joan, that’s my boyfriend.” Dahlia said, glaring at her, daring her to disagree.

She saw Joan increase her pace, speed-walking towards them, prompting Dahlia to do the same before her friend tore her dignity to shreds.

“Hi!” Joan said brightly, extending her hand for a polite handshake. “You must be Marcel. I’m Joanna Kara Kent but please, call me Joan. I’m Dahlia’s bestie! Pleasure to meet you.”

Marcel and Chris took her in, slightly taken off guard by her friendly bubbly exterior which was such a contrast to Dahlia’s cool calm one.

She was a tall- _taller than Marcel even_ \- girl with wavy black hair tied in a low ponytail, neatly kept in control with a hairband. She wore black spectacles over her blue eyes and wore a simple plaid shirt with suspender shorts and cowboy boots.

All in all, she instantly reminded them of a country girl.

“Ignore her. I’m not affiliated with this loon in any way.” Dahlia said. Then she fondly patted Titus. “I am however proud to say that I’m affiliated with this beauty. His name is Titus.”

“Ow, Dali. I’m right here, y’know.” Joan said, not at all fazed.

“Titus? Like the Shakespeare character?” Marcel asked.

“Yes.” Dahlia preened.

“Hi, boy. It’s nice to meet you.” Marcel said, crouching down to scratch Titus between the ears. The Great Dane’s tail wagged, leaning into the touch before leaning forward and much to Dahlia’s surprise, affectionately licking Marcel on the face.

He simply laughed and took it all in stride. “Good boy. I like you too.” He said. Then standing up and dusting himself off, he smiled at Joan.

“Pleasure’s mine, Joan. I’m Marcel though you….probably already knew that.” Marcel greeted either way.

“I’m Chris, his bro.” Chris introduced.

“Nice to meet cha, Chris! Good to know I won’t be a third-wheel in this.” She greeted.

Chris shook her hand and he was surprised to find that her grip was as strong as a vice. Looks like the country girl was stronger than she looked.

“She’s from Metropolis but came over to visit. She insisted on tagging along and I figured that at least she can accompany Chris lest they tire of the two of us.” Dahlia said, hooking her arm with Marcel’s.

Titus whined and nudged her leg, looking at her with an offended look in his eyes.

“Sorry, _three_ of us.” She amended.

“So how did the two of you meet?” Joan butted in.

“At Wayne Industries.” Marcel replied. “My class and I were on a tour. I bumped into Dahlia there.”

“Oh……………wait, so you know……?” she asked.

“I know.” He confirmed. “And frankly, I don’t really care.” He said, giving Dahlia a gentle tender smile that made Joan’s heart squeeze.

“You found yourself a good one here, D.” Joan whispered to Dahlia, an ear-to-ear grin on her face.

“Yes, yes I have.” Dahlia said smugly.

“Yeah, I’m just here.” Chris muttered.

But Joan’s superhearing picked it up and she couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty. The guy must be feeling pretty left out.

Time to change that.

She slowed her stride so Dahlia and Marcel can walk ahead while she walked beside Chris to keep him company.

Now that they were actually walking side by side, the height difference became all the more noticeable to Chris. Is the universe gonna give him a thing for hanging out with tall people now?

“Soooo you’re from France?” she asked, trying to strike up a conversation.

“What gave it away?” he asked. “But yes, I’m from Paris.”

“Nice place.” She hummed.

“Yeah….sure it is.” He said. Oh if only she knew…..

“Are you not happy there?” she asked, noticing the slight bitterness in his words.

“Trust me, it’s not just the City of Loves and Lights anymore.” He said.

“…..you like the countryside?” she asked.

He shrugged. “I dunno. I’m more of a city boy really.”

“You should go to Smallville in Kansas. Nice place to see what a simple countryside life is like.” She suggested.

“Never heard of it.” He admitted.

“It’s where my Ma and Pa live. Ma makes the best apple pie.” She said.

“Really? My bro’s parents own the best bakery in Paris. If you like apple pie, you should try their apple turnovers. The insides practically melt in your mouth.” Chris said.

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” She said, beaming at him as though he just said something extraordinarily astonishing.

For some reason, Chris felt his heart skip a beat and he suddenly noticed that wow, her eyes were adorable and looked as bright and clear as a blue sky, the spectacles only making her look even more endearing.

Tall but adorable, quite the combo.

“Uh…is there something on my face?” she asked awkwardly, snapping Chris out of his stupor and making him realize that he’d been staring at her like a weirdo; the fact he has to crane his head up to do so only made it more obvious.

Smooth, Chris. Smooth.

“Yeah.” He lied. “It’s gone now so….nevermind.” he lamely added.

“Oh….okay.” she said.

Then silence stretched between them, the tension becoming tauter with each passing second, weighing down on the awkwardness.

‘Say something, you dumb@$$.’ Chris mentally chided himself. Come on, he was Chris fu$king Bourgeois, he’s supposed to be smooth as glass when it comes to wooing girls!

Wait……….why did he want to woo her? He hasn’t even known Joan for an hour.

But still…he realized he didn’t mind her company. In fact, she was above the usual tolerable levels. Or was that because it’s been a while since Chris has ever had the opportunity to be with a friendly stranger?

“So how’d you end up with Dahlia?” he asked, finally finding a subject to break the tension.

“Oh.” Joan said, internally grateful the tension was easing now. “Well, our dads know one another and introduced us. We….had our differences and were a bit rocky but we worked it out.”

“How? No offence but…..Dahlia isn’t the easiest person to warm up to.” Chris asked, genuinely curious as to how this sunshine girl could grow close to someone as admittedly, cold as Dahlia.

“You’re right, she isn’t.” Joan said bluntly. “She can be cold, a bit stuck-up and know-it-all, haughty, bossy, stern, can’t take a joke or lighten up and well….all in all a bit of an Ice Queen. We had our disagreements and spats and more fights than I can count. In the end though…I knew that even after all that, I’d still throw myself in front of a bullet for her and that she wouldn’t hesitate to do the same.

“Trust me when I say that girl will walk through hell for the people she cares about. Underneath all that stoic lady-like maturity, she’s kind, brave, smart and empathetic in a way, even if she doesn’t show it often. When she says she cares about you, she means it.

“Trust me, we have more in common than you think.” She added rather cryptically.

“Enlighten me.” He said.

“Sorry.” She said, crossing her fingers in an ‘X’ over her lips. “Girls gotta keep a secret. Part of the best friend code and all that.” She said with a sly smile.

“What about you and Marcel? How’d you two meet?” Joan asked.

At that, Chris couldn’t help but wince as he was reminded of his bully days…..god, he was such a dick back then.

“We……didn’t start on friendly terms.” He said.

Joan just looked at him imploringly, those blue eyes of hers open and honest without a hint of deceit. She didn’t ask for more, simply waiting for him to decide.

“I was…..a bully as a kid.” He sighed. “Not the brightest chapters in my life….sure as hell aren’t my proudest either. Just thinking about it makes me cringe. I was pretty much Marcel’s kindergarten bully and I stayed that way until our preteens.”

He looked away from her ashamed.

“But….?” She asked, her voice was simply curious and much to his shock, it was devoid of any disgust or disappointment.

He whipped his head around, wondering if he was fooling himself but her open face greeted him and he realized he wasn’t.

“I mean, you two are friends now, right? That means you guys managed to reconcile and start over.” She stated in a matter-of-fact way.

“Yeah.” He said, a smile twitching on his lips. “At some point, someone managed to slowly poke me down the right path and I realized that….I wanted to be a good person; I wanted to be a _better_ person. So I started straightening my crap and tried to turn over a new leaf.

“I can’t give you all the details but at some point, well….let’s just say we both found a mutual enemy. I also realized that said enemy was putting Marcel through hell-she made me look like a saint in comparison. Yeah, I was a jerkass but at least I was straightforward about it and still had limits. But this one? She wasn’t ‘bad’, she was _evil_ , simple as that.

“I….. _no one_ deserves to be treated like that. No one deserves to be hurt like that. I realized that if I really wanted to become a better person, I had to start by owning up to my mistakes- and one of them was apologizing to Marcel for being a bully to him all these years just to feed my superiority complex.

“And he forgave me. Slowly he forgave me and I realized that….he never _hated_ me. He never held any malice towards me for tormenting him for years. He was willing to look past all that unlike everyone else and actually give me a chance at redemption.

“We both wanted to be better so……” he spread his arms out. “Here we are and frankly, I’d do it all again in a heartbeat.”

“I’d say you’re doing a pretty good job at the whole turning over a new leaf thing then. Not many can do it as well as you.” Joan said.

Chris felt his cheeks feel a bit warmer and-wait, was he blushing?!

“Thanks.” He decided to mumble, turning around, pretending to take an interest in whatever store was beside him. “Sides, we have more in common than you think.”

“Like?” she asked.

“Sorry.” He said, giving her a teasing smirk as he pressed a finger against his lips. “Guy’s gotta keep a secret. Bro code and all that.”

Joan just laughed and Chris couldn’t help but think that her laugh sounded amazing. He didn’t mean it in a cheesy way like how some say a great beauty’s laugh is like the tinkling of bells.

No, her laughter was heartfelt and bright. It radiated warmth and transversed barriers the naked eye couldn’t see just to be heard and spread to others.

“Touché, city boy.” She teased with a boldness that surprised herself.

“You’re not so bad yourself, country girl.” He sassed back.

Up ahead, Marcel and Dahlia turned around and smiled. Looks like their respective besties were getting along rather well.

“They seem to be getting along.” Marcel mused.

“Joan’s the kind of girl who would befriend anyone and everyone. I’d know.” Dahlia said.

“I thought you were the kind of girl who wasn’t like anyone else?” he teased.

“To be fair, neither is Joan.” She replied smoothly but cryptically.

“So you admit she’s your friend?” he asked.

“……………….if ever asked, I’ll swear on my life that I never said this but….” Dahlia looked away, cheeks tinted pink. “Yes. She’s like the sister I never had.” She whispered.

Joan heard though and bit her tongue to keep from squealing. She resisted the urge to run up to Dahlia on the spot to hug her. She knew she cared!

“Wait, so you live in Smallville, Kansas or Metropolis? Dahlia said you were from the latter.” Chris clarified.

“Metropolis, actually but yeah, Smallville is my second home too and as you can see.” She spread her arms out. “I’m a country girl at heart.”

“So you live on the same turf as the Boy Scout in the red cape?” Chris inquired further.

“The Man of Steel himself.” She said, chest puffed out in pride.

“You a fan of him?” he asked.

“Yup! Personally, I prefer Supergirl though.” Joan said. Won’t hurt to give her alter ego some credit too.

“Superman, Supergirl, Superboy.” Chris shook his head. “All those superpowers and they can’t come up with a super original name?”

“Hey, there’s Power Girl!” she protested, a bit more defensive than necessary. But still, she can’t help but be a bit insulted.

“Mmhm.” He said dryly.

“Why don’t you come up with a name then, Mr. I’m An Expert At Names?” she asked.

“Wow, how long it take for you to come up with that name? A second?” he snarked.

“Would you prefer it if I called you Jerk Face?” she scowled.

Chris couldn’t help but find her scowling adorable since it looked more like pouting to him…………it was also a bit unnerving since she was still taller than him.

“I’ll take the former, thanks.” He decided.

“And here I thought you were a nice guy.” She muttered.

“Nice guys are overrated. Nice doesn’t mean good.” He said.

“Good point.” She admitted. “…..well, at least you’re a good person then.”

That made Chris stiffen.

“And how would you know that?” he couldn’t help but ask, his eyes narrowed. “We barely even know each other.”

“That can change if you want it to.” She said, giving him a gentle smile, not at all put off by his prickliness.

“I managed to put up with Dahlia for years so if you think you can top that up, well, I like a good challenge.” she said, giving him a coy smile.

“Challenge accepted.” Chris found himself blurting before he could stop himself. But he could feel his lip quirking up, telling him that he didn’t mind.

And judging by the bright twinkle in Joan’s eyes….neither did she.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“My family wants to meet you, you know.” Dahlia whispered to Marcel, her grip on his arm tightening slightly.

“And?” Marcel asked, hoping his nerves didn’t show.

“I had to stop three of my brothers from documenting illegal forgery.” She deadpanned. “In other words, they seem quite excited to meet the man who’s captured my heart.”

“How can I capture something when it was opened for me to share?” he teased.

“Getting poetic, are we?” she teased back. “On a serious note however, I meant what I first said. My father especially is rather intrigued.”

“Is that supposed to be a good thing or a bad thing?” he asked.

“All things considered? I’d say good.” She replied evenly.

“I feel better already.” Marcel grimaced.

“Don’t let the intimidation waver your resolve. Intimidation is merely a breeze that passes in the blink of an eye. It pales in comparison to true fear.” She said.

“Who says I’m intimidated?” he said.

“Who says you’re afraid?” she shot back.

“Anything I should know beforehand then?” he asked.

“Just bear in mind that other than my father, I am thankfully not blood-related to any of my other siblings as they were dropped on their heads when they were babies.” She deadpanned.

“Sounds like one big happy family!” Marcel chirped.

“Hilarious.” She drawled.

“Love you too, _ange_.” He laughed, pecking her cheek.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“D’aw.” Joan cooed. “They’re so sweet together.”

“I’m gonna get diabetes at this rate.” Chris agreed.

“It’s still taking time to settle in. I’m still tryin’ to process the fact that Dahlia honest to god found someone and that she’s in a committed relationship.” She said.

“Dating isn’t her forte I take it? I imagine lots of people would want to ask for her hand.” Chris said.

“You’re right on both accounts. A guy tried to flirt with her once, she hit a nerve point so hard the poor guy was left writhing on the floor like a dead fish. Another guy crossed a line, tried to touch her at a no-no spot and she broke his fingers…..all of them, _then_ broke his nose.” Joan said.

Chris’s head snapped towards her so fast, he’s surprised he didn’t get whiplash. His eyes were as wide as dinner plates and he looked a shade paler now.

“Seriously?” he hissed.

“As serious as how World War II went down.” She said.

“……..now I’m worried for my bro more than ever.” He said, shaking his head. “She some kinda secret agent assassin?”

Joan nervously laughed. Oh he had no idea how eerily right he more or less was.

“I’m also half-convinced that Marcel was a robot or some kinda shape-shifter.” She added, trying to lighten up the mood.

“Puh-leeze. He’s about as humane as you get….actually, he’s so humane it’s inhumane if that makes sense.” Chris said.

“I’m more sold on the robot theory now.” She said.

“You wish. I say shape-shifter is more believable.” He said.

But they both shared an amiable smile, knowing they were just exchanging friendly witty banter and…..they enjoyed it.

Still, unable to contain herself, she couldn’t help but double-check, _just to be sure_. Dahlia was the one who told her to always be careful and wary of the people around you and all that. Plus, it’s not like she’s abusing her powers in a pervy way- ugh, Rao _forbid_ she ever crosses that line- and hey, if he really isn’t a robot then good for her-

What she saw made her stop dead in her tracks.

Oh god…………….. _oh god_.

Great Rao…..how is he…….

Being blessed with so many powers can sometimes be a curse. Her father told her that numerous times and she’s learned it firsthand a couple of times herself. X-ray was no exception to this.

Oh sure, the superpower was useful and efficiently versatile but she’d be lying if she said sometimes, she wished she didn’t have that power. Because that meant she’d never be able to get the image of seeing bones break, shattering beyond repair and seeing it tear through flesh, poking out of bodies amongst the red of blood out of her mind.

She’ll never unsee the image of a heart once beating with life slowly stop.

She’ll never be able to unsee the image of peeking under covers to see scars marring bodies. Some from tragedy; some of said tragedy inflicted by their own hand.

“Joan?” Chris asked, noticing the girl just standing there, eyes wide in shock. She was just standing there, staring ahead at nothing in particular, horrified.

“Joan?” he asked again, placing a hand on her shoulder to get her attention.

She turned her head around-

What she saw from Chris made her want to hurl.

“Joan? Hey, you alright?” Chris asked. “Joan!” he called again with more force when she didn’t respond, gently shaking her shoulders.

“I-wha?” she stammered.

“Are you okay? Are you sick? You look like you’re about to throw up.” He said.

‘I _am_ about to throw up.’ She thought.

“I…..” her eyes flitted to the front, to Dahlia who was talking to Marcel and smiling and laughing without a care in he world- oh god, does she even know?!

“I need to talk to Dahlia!” she said in one breath. It took all her willpower to not use her superspeed right then and there to whisk Dahlia away as she speed-walked towards her, a girl on a mission.

“Hey Marcel, can I borrow Dahlia for a sec?” she asked.

“Huh? Oh, sure why-” she was already dragging Dahlia off before Marcel had finished.

“Just for a quick chat. You boys just wait here for us, kay?” she called back.

“Joan, stop- what are you doing?!” Dahlia hissed, glaring at her. “I swear, unhand me or-”

“We need to talk.” She told Dahlia firmly

“Can’t it wait?” she asked exasperatedly.

“No, it can’t, Dahlia shut up and let me talk, this is serious.” Joan hissed.

At that, Dahlia stiffened. A serious Joan is a big issue not to be taken lightly.

And by ‘big’, she meant possibly as big as Gotham 'big'.

“I x-rayed Marcel and Chris.” Joan said bluntly.

" _You what?!_ Joan, I thought you of all people wouldn’t abuse your powers like that! That was an invasion of privacy.” She scolded.

“Oh hush Ms. My Dad Has Contingency Plans For All His Colleagues. And if I had to make a list of the amount of times _you_ haven’t been mindful of others privacy, I can wrap it around the whole of Metropolis and still have some left for Smallville!” Joan snapped back.

“Your point?” Dahlia gritted out.

“Are Marcel and Chris metas? Vigilantes?” she asked.

“What makes you think that?” Dahlia asked with morbid curiosity.

“Because their bodies have been damaged. _Badly._ I’d say they’ve been as broken as badly as your dad’s body, maybe even worse. They shouldn’t be able to walk right now, hell, with the amount of injuries they have they shouldn’t be able to breathe, much less be alive!” Joan said.

“What do you mean?” Dahlia asked, feeling her heart drop from her chest all the way down six feet under.

“I….I’m not as good as Dad at this but……” closing her eyes, Joan took a deep breath and steeled herself.

“Marcel’s spine has been broken twice in three places with half a dozen fractures; almost every ribcage has been either broken or cracked or full out _shattered_ ; his left arm and both legs should be amputated at this point; his sternum has been fractured multiple times and for Christ’s sake that’s not even counting the organ ruptures and internal damage. I’m no medic but I’m pretty dang sure one of his kidneys should be failing and one of his lungs punctured.

“I can’t detect any meta or alien DNA so tell me, Dahlia, how the hell is your boyfriend still alive even?” Joan asked.

Dahlia looked petrified. For once, even without x-ray, Joan could see her horror clear as day.

Dahlia wanted to vomit. Her heart was hammering against her ribcage and if she opened her mouth wide enough, she wouldn’t be surprised if it fell out. She felt numb as paralyzing dread seized her, gripping her like a vice.

_“People have died. Some of them have died god knows how many times already. And all of them came back. They don’t even remember dying, thinking they just passed out or got mind controlled. Some people had to watch others die only for them to come back with no recollection that moments ago, they were gone.”_

Oh god……………..has Marcel….has Marcel actually died before? Has he died but didn’t know he has?

“And…..Chris?” she asked, already dreading the answer.

Joan swallowed, the poor girl looking just as shaken, if not more so than her.

“His spine and ribcage is shattered as though someone placed him under a hydraulic press; his right arm should be amputated; his humerus and clavicle have been fractured or full out shattered _god knows how many times_ and….his liver should be failing.” She said. "I'm also pretty sure he's been stabbed through the chest before too." 

Joan looked away, eyes closed and trying to keep the nausea swelling inside her under control. She screwed her eyes tight but could feel the tears threatening to spill.

She blinked when she felt Dahlia brush past her, walking briskly back.

“Dahlia?” she asked.

Dahlia ignored her, making a beeline towards Marcel as her heart thumped wildly. She just had to see, had to know, had to make sure that he’s-

He saw her and smiled; he smiled as though he wasn’t standing there in a broken damaged body that should be _dying_ on him, and waved at her as though she hadn’t just been told that the most important person in her life shouldn’t even be here to do such a simple action right now.

He opened his mouth to say something but she couldn’t care less for what she had to say.

She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in the crook of his neck, feeling his raven hair tickle her, the warmth radiating from his body embracing her and slowly breathing in the smell of cookies, white tea and ginger that he emitted.

“Dahlia?” he asked.

She felt his pulse under her fingers and heard his heart beating in his chest. She felt his chest rise and fall as he breathed.

“Dahlia? _Ange_ , talk to me. Are you okay?” he asked, gently prying her off, keeping his hands on her shoulders to _ground_ her and let her know he’s _here, actually here in front of her, alive._

“Did something happen?” he asked, gently tilting her chin up. “Do you need anything?” his brows were furrowed, his bluebell eyes gazing at her in concern.

“Nothing.” She said. “Just…..” she grabbed his hand, closing her eyes, feeling reassured because the appendage in her grip was warm and strong, it wasn’t broken, it wasn’t amputated, it was _real_.

“Just keep doing what you’re already doing.” She decided, giving him a smile.

' _Just keep living._ ' Went unsaid.

“Hey, you know I’m here for you. I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.” He soothed.

“I know, Angel….I know.” She whispered.

She didn’t want to know if they were right or wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not a medical expert so I hope I managed to get the list of injuries more or less realistically. Again, thank you Silent_Radioactivity for giving me a base for the list of injuries part.  
> I noticed that AO3 only has like, 5 works for the Chloe/Jon Kent ship so I thought I'd give it a shot myself. There aren't many fics so there aren't many references for their dynamic. It's a ship I've been contemplating adding in here for a while and decided why not? I hope I'll be able to give their relationship/dynamic a steady flow with it's own sense of individuality. Fingers crossed I can give it development, uniqueness and wholesomeness without making it cheesy, cringey, stereotypical, lousy or a full out mess basically.  
> Also, I changed her name from Jonathan Samuel Kent to Joanna Kara Kent. Joan cuz it's kinda like Joan of Arc and Kara in honor of her cousin who also once held the mantle of Supergirl before moving on to Power Girl (I'll further explain next time).  
> PS, Marcel sometimes just calls Dahlia 'ange' meaning angel in French so they match. It's shorter and easier and just as sweet ;)


	13. Arcade (to Barricade) Troubles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The quartet head to an arcade to get their game face on and forget about their troubles; the country girl and city boy bond; Marcel and Dahlia have a dance-off.

Chris would say that he’s many things.

He was once Marcel’s tormentor but now he was his bro and he’d throw himself in front of a bullet for said bro in a heartbeat.

He was once an @$$hole…..actually, he _still_ was one but he was now an @$$hole with a heart of gold, as Alix would put it.

He’s also a superhero and yeah, he fu$ked up big time the first time but he’s come a long way since then. Maybe he wasn’t on Marcel’s level- and deep down, he knew no one could ever ascend that high- but still, he was pretty damn good at it himself.

He also wasn’t an idiot.

He noticed how Dahlia was practically _glued_ to Marcel’s hip now; always holding onto him as though she’d drop dead the moment she let go.

Another thing he noticed was the glances Joan kept sending towards him. She thought she was being subtle and he pretended not to notice but he did. He also noticed how occasionally, the back of their hands would brush against each other or how more than once, their shoulders bumped against one another.

She kept giving him this look, as though she knew something and wanted to let him know but chose not to out of respect- or god forbid it, _pity_. She tried to act normal, as though she didn’t know but frankly, she was doing a bad job at hiding it.

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore.

“What?” he asked with more bite than he intended.

“I’m sorry?” Joan asked.

“Out with it, what’s wrong?” he asked.

“Whaddaya mean?” she asked.

“Don’t play dumb, I know something’s up. You may be a country girl but you sure as hell ain’t some ditzy airheaded pretty face and neither am I.” he said, looking at him his piercing sky blue eyes of his.

“It’s nothing.” She said, looking away.

Yeah, as if he’s gonna buy that $hit.

Chris sighed, running a hand through his blonde locks. Not the first time he wished he was as good as Marcel with the mushy stuff.

“Look I…..I’m no therapist and I can be an @$$hole sometimes but I’m _not_ blind. My bro’s the kinda person who either wears his heart on his sleeve or hides it as well as a needle in a haystack. So trust me, you ain’t fooling me.” He said. “I get that we just met but I’m not a heartless bastard…..I…I want to help you, okay?”

He didn’t know why but fu$k, he hated seeing her sad like this. It made him feel crappy and….she didn’t deserve to feel down. It didn’t suit her.

She did however give him a gracious smile so he’ll count that as a win for now.

“Thanks for the offer, city boy.” She said, ruffling his hair.

He squawked in indignation and swatted her hand away.

“Why you- do you have any idea how long it took for me to style this?!” he snapped, trying to undo the damage.

“You city boys are so soft.” She said, rolling her eyes.

“You really wanna throw hands, country girl?” he challenged.

“Trust me, sunshine, I’m stronger than I look.” She told him, a steely alluring tone to her voice.

“So am I.” he told her evenly.

“How bout this, since you’re so eager to prod about me, let’s make it a fair trade. I ask you one question that I have to answer myself and you ask me one with the same conditions. Deal?” she suggested.

“Deal.” He replied before his mind could catch up.

“What’s your favourite colour?” she asked.

He blinked at the innocuous question and the genuine curiosity sparkling in her eyes.

“Yellow. Yours?” he asked.

“Red and blue.” She replied.

“My turn then- what’s your favourite dessert?” he asked. It’s only fair to ask her a harmless question too.

“Apple pie with vanilla ice cream. Oh and chocolate pancakes. You?” she asked.

“I like honey. Peanut butter and honey fudge.” He replied.

“Favourite superhero?” she asked.

“Amber Ruche and Red Beetle.” He said. Hey, wouldn’t hurt to give his alter ego some recognition.

“Who?” she asked, face blank.

“Paris superheroes.” Was all he said.

‘Wait, Paris? Was that what dad was looking into?’ she wondered. Was that what her dad was investigating? More superheroes? Maybe he wanted to scout them out for membership or something.

“Lemme guess, yours are the Boy Scout and Girl Scout of Metropolis.” He said, mouth quirking up into a teasing knowing smirk.

“Bingo. Wow, you’re ace at this. You must be a master.” She replied dramatically.

“My turn.” His smirk just grew. “Tell me a secret.”

“We’re supposed to ask questions, not make demands.” She pointed out.

“Okay, could you tell me a secret?” he rephrased.

“You first, wise guy.” She said. So he wanted to play another tune of game too? She’ll do it.

“I hate soup.” He deadpanned.

“How is that a secret?” she asked.

“It’s something not many know.” He shrugged.

“Okay, I…..uh…..” she fumbled. Had she not held back, she’s pretty sure she’s got enough secrets in her to bury Chris under to the point his body can never be found.

“I once broke curfew and snuck out of my house with D when I was 10.” She decided.

“So you’re the rebellious type?” he asked.

“More of a free spirit.” She smoothly replied.

“What did you guys do?” he asked.

“Broke into a building.” She found herself blurting out. “I mean-as in, we _tried_ to break into a building….didn’t work. We got busted by the owner.”

Aka Lex Luthor himself. Now _that_ had been quite the ‘mission’.

Both his eyebrows shot up. “Must’ve been one helluva rollercoaster ride.” He remarked.

“Was grounded for months.” She agreed. “My turn, what’s the most……..amazing thing you’ve done?”

“……………………………….become a better person.” He whispered, almost to himself. “Becoming Marcel’s friend.” He said, louder this time and gave her a smile.

It wasn’t sharp with sarcasm, dry with wit or rugged with smugness; it was soft, sincere and happy and it made her heart flutter. It reminded Joan of a flower blooming for the first time.

That smile definitely made him look pretty gorgeous, she’ll admit that.

“Like what you’re seeing?” he teased, noticing her stare. Internally, he tried his best not to fidget, finding himself….self-conscious for once under someone’s attention.

“Yes.” She replied honestly. “You have a nice smile. You should smile more often.” She added softly.

Chris felt his heart skip a beat.

Joan realized what she said and her cheeks turned as red as her father’s cape.

“…….if that’s what you want, country girl, I’ll try.” He said, voice soft as he awkwardly glanced away, cheeks pink.

He looked adorable.

She snickered out loud.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, frowning in an attempt to regain his original haughty sarcastic rich boy demeanour.

“You’re a dork deep down, y’know that?” she asked.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He huffed.

“Least you ain’t denying it.” She grinned.

“You’re incorrigible.” He grumbled.

“And you’re more gregarious than D, gonna hafta try harder than that, city boy.” She smoothly said with a smirk.

Oh Chris was definitely going to enjoy this.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“Unbelievable.” Dahlia said, glancing back at the bantering duo.

“Hm?” Marcel asked.

“I can’t believe she might be falling for that blonde ‘city boy’ of all people.” She sniffed. “Didn’t know blondes were her type.”

“And you’d know her type, wouldn’t you?” he asked.

“I know her shoe size and the exact dates of every dental appointment she’s ever had.” She deadpanned.

“…..wow.” Marcel said, shaking his head. Then a thought struck him. “Was that also how you knew which hotel I was staying even before I ever outright told you?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

Dahlia didn’t show any outward signs, heck, she didn’t even twitch. She knew this was coming so of course she was prepared.

“I have access to my father’s database in Wayne Industries. Naturally, I knew about your school, its itinerary and accommodations.” She smoothly replied.

“You really like to stay one step ahead, don’t you?” he said.

“Certainly better than staying two steps behind.” She replied with a smirk that again, made Marcel glad she wasn’t someone against him.

“……what happened just now? You seemed spooked after talking with Joan.” He asked, his bluebell eyes were looking at her in concern.

She resisted the urge to look away but damn it, those blue orbs of his felt like they were staring into her soul. And a part of her hated how _he_ was the one looking at her like that when it should be the other way around.

She didn’t want to think what it must’ve been like to be in Joan’s shoes, to see all the gruesome injuries through her eyes.

“It was nothing. Girl stuff.” She lied.

Although her voice didn’t stutter, Marcel didn’t look convinced. Thankfully, as though realizing she was in a pinch, Titus reliable as ever, nudged Marcel with his snout to get his attention.

Marcel smiled, his attention temporarily diverted as he scratched Titus behind the ears fondly. Already, the two were growing close.

“He likes you. Can’t say he likes many people.” She noted.

“Glad he likes me then. I’m really honoured, boy.” He said, patting Titus one more time. “So, where’re we going?”

“How about an arcade?” Joan asked, her and Chris catching up to them.

“What about the mutt? Can’t bring him along.” Chris pointed out. “No offence.” He added towards Titus. Least he had tact to do that.

Dahlia hummed, pondering if she should call Alfred and ask him to pick Titus when she suddenly noticed that she was near the neighbourhood Barbara lived in. Memory serves, she would spending today at home which means………….

* * *

Ding dong~

Barbara blinked, pausing the Netflix movie she was watching.

“Coming!” she yelled.

Opening the door, she came face to snout with Titus. His leash was still on with a note and $50 dollar bill attached.

Gordon,

Please take care of Titus for a few hours. I promise to come back and pick him up afterwards. Keep the cash as a thank you for your services. Or if you’d like, feel free to call Alfred and ask him to take Titus home though I ask that you notify me should you do so.

Many thanks for your cooperation.

-Dahlia

………….when the hell did dog-sitting become part of her job? And today was her day off, damn it!

* * *

“You sure Titus will be alright?” Marcel asked again.

“He’s well-trained and well-behaved, bred to be leagues above your average pet dog.” Dahlia said proudly, tone confident.

“She loves that dog more than her own siblings.” Joan muttered to Chris.

“Frankly, I’d pick the mutt over any of my classmates any day…with a few exceptions.” Chris quipped.

“Whoa…..” Marcel said, eyes widening in awe as they reached the arcade.

Stepping inside, the numerous sounds of filtered through their ears. The digital sound effects; the gunfire and explosions, the screeching tyres of race cars, the futuristic sci-fi noise, the pop music from a karaoke or dance machine mingled with the sounds of numerous people from children to teenagers and even young adults clamouring and strolling, some shouting, some crying, some cheering, some whooping, some groaning and so on.

“Holy $hit they have frickin VR in here!” Chris said, jaw dropping when he saw a VIP room labelled ‘VR’ in bold neon. In front of said door was a queue, all waiting for their turn in the virtual reality world.

“This arcade was sponsored by Wayne Industries.” Dahlia explained, coming back with tokens they can use. “Naturally, he only offers the best.”

“And you’d know, wouldn’t you?” Joan joked, playfully nudging her.

Dahlia said nothing as she evenly distributed the tokens for all of them.

“That why you’re in disguise?” Marcel asked, taking note of the baseball cap she wore.

“Better safe than sorry.” She said.

But still, overall Dahlia looked like your normal girl. A sleeveless graphic hoodie over a plain t-shirt with ripped jeans and trainers plus a baseball cap that looked natural with the outfit.

“Maybe we should split up. It’s crowded in here.” Joan said as someone bumped into her.

“I’ll go with Joan.” Chris said, trying to ignore the slight pang of anger he felt when that jerk bumped her without apologizing.

“Meet back here in an hour?” Marcel asked.

“Make it two we might have to wait in line.” Dahlia suggested.

“Two hours. See ya then!” Chris said. “C’mon, country girl.” He said, grabbing Joan’s bicep and dragging her off.

“You don’t need to hold my hand y’know.” Joan said. Then she wrenched out of his grip…..and properly held his hand.

“But if you’re gonna do it, at least do it right.” She sniffed but didn’t quite meet his eye as her cheeks turned pink.

“I’ll keep that mind.” Chris said, hoping he was more composed.

He noticed how her hands were calloused and rough like Marcel’s. No doubt from all the labour she does in her countryside life without the usual aid of advanced technology. She probably does a lot of physical work on the farm. He wouldn’t be surprised if she lived in one.

Joan noticed his hands weren’t smooth either. Perhaps not rough from labour like hers but she could feel the roughness gained from hard work, especially the ones on his knuckles. Maybe he did sports? Martial arts? Rich city boys do that, right?

Regardless, neither let go of the others hands as they made their way through the arcade.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“So, what do you wanna try?” Marcel asked Dahlia.

Dahlia’s eyes scanned the room though internally, she was a bit unsure. She hasn’t come to the mall, much less an arcade for a while now. Most of the time, she can play the numerous video games already at the manor or better yet, Cheese Viking on the Batcomputer.

As music and cheers slid into her ears, her eyes landed on the dance machine. The arrows glowing an almost ethereal light as though to beacon her.

“Hope you have good coordination.” She said with a smirk.

Marcel followed her gaze and he wavered when he saw the dance machine.

“Um…….” She was already making her way towards it and he followed her, not wanting to get lost but still reluctant.

“It’s not as hard as it looks.” Dahlia reassured him. “It’ll be a walk in the park for a fast learner such as yourself.”

“Easy for you to say. I’m a clumsy fumblefoot.” He told her.

She just raised an eyebrow, not convinced. If he can hold his ground against muggers and risk his neck to help a Parisian superhero who looks like a magical boy, she’s pretty sure a fun dance game shouldn’t be that big a deal.

“Then try to keep up, fumblefoot.” She said with a playful smirk, stepping on. “You coming or am I gonna do this solo?”

“…..what’s in it for me?” he asked, cocking his hip and placing a hand on it.

“Loser treats the other on a date?” she suggested.

“…..when you put it that way, guess it’s a win-win either way.” He said, stepping onto the platform.

Dahlia looked through the selection of songs, one in particular catching her eye and sending a wave of nostalgia through her.

Crazzee Boi.

She remembered that song. She remembered it as the first song she dance to when she first stepped foot onto a platform like this to play this game for the first time. She remembered the feeling of triumph when she defeated Logan at the game.

“Crazzee Boi?” Marcel remarked.

“I’m fond of it. Was the first song I danced to, first one I won.” She explained.

“Looks like you’ve made your pick then.” Marcel said, confirming the selection.

 _ Oh I think you're crazy _ _  
Can't have my love _

[1…2…3…DANCE!]

 _ Oh I think you're crazy _ _  
Can't have my heart  
So crazy boy _

The arrows came and they both sprung into action. Marcel instantly noticed Dahlia easily fell into rhythm, her feet practically gliding across the platform as she nailed the right arrows in accurately precise synchronization. She was as agile as a fox, as light on her feet as a cat and as graceful as a swan.

The same can’t be said for him.

Dahlia glanced over and saw that Marcel was in fact struggling a bit. Sure he more or less got some of them but was nowhere near her level of perfection. She frowned, knowing he can do better.

 _ Mohm eh buhl tah oleui nun _ _  
Guh ttam that fire  
Mah-eum jahkoo ttulyuh suh  
Geh sok olyuh higher  
Ee tah go boh yuh jool soo in nun b boi swag  
You think you got it but boy I got it like that  
Gwiyeobdah go mahl uhl hah doh  
Nuhn neh style anirago _

Marcel glanced to the side and simply saw Dahlia smirk at him smugly, her feet flawlessly working despite not even looking at the screen.

“Come on, Angel. I’m getting bored.” She taunted.

 _ W-w-why you so crazy boy _ _  
Nuhl want hah jih anhae _

Marcel scowled, feeling a spark of competitiveness spark inside of him. He glanced back at the screen, his features hardening in determination. He glanced down at the platform, memorizing the placing of the arrows then back at the screen and…….

_ Myuh ppun ee ruhn mahl hae yah dweh nun deh _

[PERFECT!] [EXCELLENT!] [WOW!] [AWESOME!]

The screen displayed for Marcel as his arrows synchronized in perfect timing with the song. Sure enough, his body wasn’t as tense as before, his feet lighter and lithely moving across the platform, his movement’s fluid yet quick. He toprocked as though it was as easy was skipping.

Dahlia felt her lip quirk up. She knew he could do it.

But now….that also meant it was time to up her game.

 _ Turn it up, listen up (okay) _ _  
Oh I think you're crazy  
Can't have my love  
Oh I think you're crazy  
Can't have my heart  
So crazy boy _

A crowd gradually gathered around, watching as the two teens battled it out, the arrows flashing across the screen as streaks and their feet’s a blurr that glided across the platform almost too fast for the eye to see.

 _ Oh I think you're crazy _ _  
Can't have my love  
Oh I think you're crazy  
Can't have my heart  
So crazy boy _

_ Muhn chah boneh ji mah _ _  
Im sick and tired  
Of you blowing up my jeonhwa  
Cchok pal ee ji doh an hae  
Ee tah go boh yuh jool soo in nun play boi swag  
You think you got it no boy I got it like that  
Gwiyeobdah go mahl uhl hah doh  
Nuhn neh style anirago  
W-w-why you so crazy boy  
Nuhl want hah jih anhae _

Left right left right left right left right, both their feet beat rapidly in unison. Despite it being a competition, it also felt like a script as him and Dahlia’s actions seemed to flow together on the same current seamlessly.

He didn’t feel like she was a competitor. If anything, he felt even more confident doing this with her.

She glanced over towards and judging by the smile on her face in place of the competitive smirk from earlier, he knew she felt the same way.

 _ Myuh ppun ee ruhn mahl hae yah dweh nun deh _ _  
Turn it up, listen up (okay)  
Oh I think you're crazy  
Can't have my love  
Oh I think you're crazy  
Can't have my heart  
So crazy boy _

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“So, city boy, which one you wanna try first?” Joan asked Chris.

“Ladies first.” He said, curious to see what might catch her eye first.

“Hm………” she hummed, eyes scanning the room. Gosh, she looked so adorably innocent. Then she perked up.

“How about that one?” she asked pointing towards…..an arm wrestling machine.

Chris blinked. So she liked to play it rough? Wait….or was it cuz she thought he was the one who was gonna do it?

“Good luck, kid.” An older male- one of the arcade employees- said. “That thing’s as strong as Superman.”

“I like a good challenge.” Joan said with unwavering confidence, rolling up her sleeve. Even with all the neon lighting, Chris’s eyebrows shot up when he noticed that her arms were damn well-toned.

That explains her vice iron-grip.

“Wait, so you’re gonna do this?” he asked, noticing her prop her elbow ready.

“Uh duh? I chose it after all.” She said.

Internally, her mind was screaming at her because what was she doing?! She was supposed to stay away from stuff like this, she could risk blowing her cover! And all for what? To impress a cute blonde city boy who was sarcastic and haughty and….and……….kind and……a real sweetheart deep down despite only knowing him for a short while………………

Eh, what her Pa, Ma, Mom and Dad don’t know won’t hurt em. _Just this once._

Worse comes to worse, she can just say that Dahlia’s rebelliousness was beginning to rub off on her.

“Put this in for me, please.” She said, passing him a token.

“Good luck.” He said, putting it in.

God he hoped she didn’t end up getting bumped out again…

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

[WINNNER! WINNER! WINNER!]

Chris’s jaw dropped open wide enough to stuff a melon in there.

Joan just smirked and gently closed his jaw.

“Don’t wanna get flies in there now do you, sugar?” she mock-cooed, patting his cheek.

“Damn girl, remind me not to get on your bad side.” He said dazedly.

“Noted.” She said, stuffing her tickets into her shorts. She had so many some dangled out.

“C’mon, I wanna get a prize.” She said, already dragging him towards the prize booth.

“Already?” he asked.

She said nothing but she had a smile on her face and seemed to be vibrating in excitement. It was infectious and Chris found himself willingly following her.

“That one please.” She said and the employee behind the prize booth handed her…..

A Supergirl plushie.

“…seriously?” he couldn’t help but deadpan.

“It’s not for me actually.” She said, fidgeting slightly, not looking at him. “It’s um……” she held it out towards him. “For you.” She whispered with flushed cheeks.

Chris slowly blinked as the plushie smiled back at him.

“I mean, I might not be hanging around for long so I…thought I’d, y’know, give you something to remember me by.” She rambled.

‘Idiot! You really think he’d want a childish doll from an arcade?! That’s so lame. God, this is embarrassing.’ She thought.

“…forget it.” She mumbled.

“Wait!” Chris said, grabbing her wrist rather boldly.

She blinked in surprise.

“I didn’t say I didn’t want it.” He said. “You just….caught me off guard. I didn’t think you’d go through all that trouble just to get me a gift….you didn’t have to.”

It was true. He really hadn’t expected her to do that. They’ve barely known each other for a day, he didn’t think she’d bother to go that far already.

“I wanted to.” She whispered.

“And I appreciate it. Thank you.” He told her sincerely.

“So….you want it?” she asked.

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” he said with a raised brow.

She smiled, her eyes sparkling like glistening crystals in a clear pool behind her spectacles.

“Thanks.” He said, taking the Supergirl doll from her. He graced her with a smile- one of his rare sincere ones that she once again managed to crack outta him in the one day they're getting to know each other.

“You’re welcome!” she chirped cheerily. “Now let’s go!” she excitedly grabbed his arm and dragged him off, rambling on about all the other games she wanted to try.

Chris realized that he didn’t care what game they chose to play, as long as he got to play it with her…he was more than content to oblige.

* * *

_ Oh I think you're crazy _ _  
Can't have my love  
Oh I think you're crazy  
Can't have my heart  
So crazy boy _

The soles of their shoes hit the final arrows in synch, ending the song.

[WINNER!]

[WINNER!]

The crowd cheered wildly, whistling and clapping and whooping, uncaring if it was a draw.

Marcel and Dahlia panted, the latter more composed but wow, even she had to admit Marcel gave her a run for her money. She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, surprised by the thin sheen of sweat on it.

Marcel hunched over, hands on his knees as he panted. He took his jacket off and tied the sleeves around his waist.

“Man….that was…some…dance.” He panted.

“See? Told you it’d be a walk in the park for you. You just needed the right push.” She said, giving him a playful hip-bump.

“Yeah but this still doesn’t settle our bet, y’know.” He mused, leaning against the railing.

“Well, there are plenty more where that came from.” She said, gesturing to all the other games in the arcade.

“Hm……………” his eyes scanned the room and landed on-

“No way….” He whispered, his lips stretching into a smile as his fatigue from the dance-off was forgotten. “They actually have it here too?!”

“Have what here?” Dahlia asked.

“Come on!” Marcel said, vaulting over the railing and making a beeline through the crowd. Dahlia deftly followed.

“Oh my god- they have the latest edition!” Marcel said in evident glee as he bounced on the spot in excitement.

It was then Dahlia saw what his hype was for.

Ultimate Mecha Strike IV.

“You play this game?” she asked. She remembered this game, she was a bit hooked on the game’s predecessor, Ultimate Mecha Strike III herself. She even played it with Tim, helping them bond in a….less lethal way.

Even the Titans got roped into playing it thanks to Logan. She’ll never say it aloud but she enjoyed those video tournaments with him, few as they were.

“Yup!” he replied. “This is one game I’m definitely not a noob at.” He said with a confidence Dahlia doesn’t often see him show so smoothly.

“Not to toot my horn but neither am I.” she said evenly. She’s won a few rounds against Logan to prove it.

“Really?” he asked, his lip quirking up into a challenging smirk.

“Memory serves, our bet is yet to be settled.” She sniffed, picking up a controller.

“Took the words right outta my mouth.” Marcel grinned, picking up the other.

* * *

The Supergirl plushie sat snugly under his arm. It did little to make the warm fuzzy feeling inside him go away. It felt like he was having butterflies in his stomach at the same time, as though he was feeling warm chocolate settle inside him.

He glanced back towards Joan who was busy trying to do Pac-Man. He noticed her tongue poke out of the corner of her mouth slightly as her brows furrowed in concentration.

He glanced back down at the Supergirl plushie.

If there was one positive thing both his father and mother taught him growing up, it’s that a Bourgeois never forgets a favor/debt. They also taught him that said favor/debt should be repaid as quickly as possible so it doesn’t hold you down or worse, come back to bite you.

Frowning, he scanned the arcade, hoping to find something to help him do just that. Unfortunately, he wasn’t as good a gamer as Marcel so this might be tricky…..

Someone stepped away to reveal a claw machine. Inside its glass case were numerous plushies, all of them cute and begging to be cuddled.

“Must be new.” Joan remarked, having finished her game.

“Must be a con-job like all the others.” He quipped. “It’s rigged. Chances of getting one is like, 1 in a 100.”

Joan hummed though he noticed her eyes linger on it.

“……..do you want one?” he asked her.

“Huh? Sorry?” she asked.

“Do you want one of the plushies in there?” he asked, jabbing a thumb towards the claw machine.

“Well….kinda, I mean, I don’t really need it but-”

“It’s a yes no question!” he snapped.

“Yes!” she yelped.

“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he huffed, rolling his eyes before walking towards it.

“Wait, what are you-I thought you said it was a con-job?” she asked, noticing him take a token out.

“I also said the odds of winning is 1 in a 100.” He shot back.

“You don’t have to go through the trouble for a plushie. I can get one from the prize booth.” She said.

“I know I don’t have to….but I want to.” He told her, his blue eyes buzzing with stubbornness.

With that said, he turned around and prayed to kwami that he’ll be that 1 in a 100.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“Chris……”

“One more time, I almost got it!”

“That’s what you said the last time….and the time before…..”

“Oh hush, you. Fifth time’s the charm.”

“It’s your sixth actually.”

_“HUSH.”_

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“Gotcha!” Chris cried triumphantly. Beside him, Joan cheered as he finally managed to grab the damn plushie and bring it all the way to the hatch for it to drop through.

“You did it!” she whooped, suddenly tackling him in a hug, nearly sending him toppling down.

Her eyes widened and she scrambled back, face red.

“So-sorry, got caught up in the moment.” She fumbled. “I’ll uh…..I’ll just….be….here.”

God, moments like these, Dahlia’s right. She really is too touchy-feely affectionate.

“Okay.” Chris found himself saying almost robotically. As he bent down to get the plushie he realized what he said and cringed.

‘Nice going genius, you made it sound as though you didn’t care!’ he chastised.

Standing up with a plushie in hand, he hoped he’d be able to make it up to her with this. Turning around, he opened his mouth-

Only for a thousand curses to explode in his mind along with red-hot anger as he saw some creep flirting with Joan, the sleaze’s eyes wandering up and down her body as though she was a piece of meat.

If they were in Paris, he’s pretty sure an akuma would be here by now.

“So, you want a prize, sweet cheeks? I can give ya a real good one if ya like?” the creep asked.

Joan glared at him, mouth pressed into a thin line. If she wanted to, all she had to do was poke him in the chest hard enough with one finger to send him flying through the wall.

“Back off creep or I’ll give you a good slap to the face.” She growled.

“Oh feisty too.” He said, leaning closer to her personal space. “Playing hard to get eh?”

“Hey, back off, _connard._ ” Chris growled, stepping in between him and in front of Joan protectively. He had placed both plushies away so both his hands would be free should things go ugly.

The creep’s eyes narrowed.

“None of your business, blondie.” He sneered.

“As if you’d know about business. You must be illiterate since you can’t seem to take a hint.” Chris sniffed.

“Watch it boy or you can kiss that face of yours goodbye.” He growled, looming over Chris.

Chris just stared back at him without even twitching, eyes bored and underwhelmed.

“Y’know, I heard the garbage truck was coming by today. Shouldn’t you be ready?” he drawled.

“That’s it!” the creep snapped.

He reared his head back for a punch and Joan tensed, ready to intervene-

Chris striked first and had it not been for her enhanced super-vision, she probably wouldn’t have noticed.

His fist shot out, jabbing the creep in the solar plexus before the other shot upwards and striked the guy’s neck.

The guy released a strangled choke, staggering back and gripping his neck, his solar plexus hurting so bad it was hard to breathe.

“I’d say you can kiss your face goodbye but you don’t really have much to lose.” Chris drawled, hands stuffed in his pockets as though he hadn’t just single-handedly dealt with a violent creep without batting an eye.

“Come on.” He said, grabbing Joan’s arm. “Let’s go.”

She blinked and allowed herself to be the one getting dragged this time.

“……hey, you okay?” she blinked when she heard his voice- it was so soft and gentle yet smooth like beeswax.

“I’m fine.” She told him. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Sides, that creep was ridiculous, utterly ridiculous to think you’re in the same league as him.” He sniffed.

“Those were some moves back there.” She remarked.

“I take self-defense class.” He smoothly replied with a nonchalant shrug. “I’m not just a pretty boy.”

“No, you’re not.” She agreed. “And I like that.”

“Hope you like this too.” He said, showing her the bee plushie he got for her.

“I love it!” she gasped, eagerly squeezing it to her chest in a hug. “Thanks. When I look at him, I’ll think of you.”

He felt his heart skip a beat before it started to pound with vigor as she graced him with a smile that made the sun look like a dim lightbulb in comparison.

He couldn’t find words.

So he just smiled back.

That smile alone spoke a hundred words and from the looks of it….Joan understood the message crystal clear.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“Come on, Mar! Wipe the floor with her!” Chris cheered.

“Kick his butt, D!” Joan yelled.

Currently the two of them were amongst the gathered crowd who were watching Marcel and Dahlia duke it out on Ultimate Mecha Strike IV with rapt attention. Hell, some were even outright betting!

“Sorry country girl, but my bro’s gonna own this one.” Chris told Joan with smug confidence.

“Hate to burst your bubble city boy, but my girl’s a fighter.” Joan shot back.

The crowd went wild and Chris had to stand on his tiptoes to see past all the jumping and raised hands.

Marcel stood there with an ear-to-ear grin on his face, his remote held up high in triumph as he stood victorious.

Joan groaned while Chris whooped.

“Hah! Told ya!” he said smugly.

“Guy just got lucky.” She sniffed.

Surprisingly, Chris didn’t take offence in the slightest. If anything, he just knowingly smiled.

“Good game.” Marcel being the good sport he was said. “You really kept me on my toes.”

“You’re one of the few people to have ever beaten me at something.” She said. “I am humbled.”

Nonetheless, they shook hands and smiled. Then Dahlia pecked him on the cheek to show there’s no hard feelings.

Win or lose, she didn’t care.

Walking through the mall, hand-in-hand with Marcel as their best friends trailed behind them, playfully bantering while each of them held a plushie one went through the effort of winning for the other, Dahlia Wayne felt like a winner either ways.

* * *

“Guys! Check it out!” Barbara said, showing them an Instagram feed.

They all clamored around to see two teens dancing away at the arcade to Crazzee Boi, the hype and frenzy of the crowd audible through the screen as they managed to hit the arrows with precision, their movements in synch as their feet practically glided across the platform.

Even with the baseball cap on, they recognized it was Dahlia and Marcel.

And below the feed were the views which were skyrocketing.

“Didn’t know the little D knew how to move like that.” Stephanie praised.

“She’s full of surprises.” Bruce said, a proud smile on his face. Even he had to admit that the boy’s eye-foot coordination is admirable.

Meeting his daughter’s boyfriend is definitely going to be interesting…..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dance-off scene and song was based off the clip from Justice League vs Teen Titans between Damian and Beast Boy at the carnival. Dahlia's boy's got some moves! 🕺  
> Also, the part that Joan mentioned involving Lex Luthor? Got that from Supersons. Btw, also note that in this fic, Joan is an honorary Titan already. I also decided to tweak the age difference between her and Dahlia. In this fic, she's only a year and a half younger than her........well, at least, that's what she always tells everyone.  
> I hope you guys like Chris and Joan's interactions so far as well as the gradual development between them. Let me know what you think in the comments below! Take care everyone.


	14. Admiring (Murky) Depths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dahlia and Marcel go to the aquarium; Joan decides she never wants to visit Paris.

The compact mirror whizzed through the air like a discus only for it to be deftly caught by Joan once again without batting an eye. At least this time she didn’t crush it.

“Morning to you too sunshine.” She quipped, her other hand casually stuffed into the pocket of her denim jacket.

“I already hung out with you yesterday, shoo.” Dahlia scowled.

“Oh please, we both know you hung out with Marcel more than me. I’m almost jealous.” Joan smirked.

“He’s certainly more tolerable than you.” Dahlia sniffed.

“So’s Chris.” Joan said, a fond smile coming onto her face.

Then her smile dropped as she remembered what else she saw. Instantly, Dahlia noticed her friend drop the light-hearted tone she usually carries.

“Dahlia, I think you owe me an explanation.” Joan said.

“I owe you nothing.” She bit out.

“Don’t give me that crap.” Joan snapped. “You really think I’m gonna just brush off what I saw yesterday?” she sighed.

“Great Rao, D, I know you’re the brains and I’m the brawn but I’m not stupid. You think I don’t know about my dad’s investigation? How him and mom are trying to nose into Paris? Plus, Marcel and Chris are from Paris too, doesn’t take a detective to put two and two together.” She pointed out.

Damn it. X-ray vision or not, superhearing or not, even Dahlia knew that while Joan would never be on the same level as her in terms of investigation, she was pretty darn perceptive in her own way.

“If you’re so smart, you should be able to connect the rest of the dots on your own then.” Dahlia said.

No. Joan didn’t need to get involved. Sure Dahlia finds her incorrigible but Joan's her best friend. She’s the sister she never had, one of the few people able to break past her walls and remain in her heart. Dahlia cared about her and even until now she was willing to put up with her emotional constipation without asking for anything in return other than her trust and friendship, damn it.

She knew Joan wasn’t invincible. She had weaknesses like kryptonite and _magic_. The latter of which they were preparing to deal with on a large scale. If Joan were to get involved and go over to Paris, she could risk getting akumatized.

And God forbid a supervillain magic-enhanced Supergirl from ever coming into existence.

“……………something big’s going on in Paris. Something our dads didn’t know about until now and…..and that scares me, D.” Joan whispered.

She looked at Dahlia and suddenly, she wasn’t Supergirl. She was _scared and confused and vulnerable._

“Is this magic? Is this another reality-warping other dimension mess again? Are we looking at a possible end of the world fiasco again?” she pushed on.

Dahlia sighed, resisting the urge to run her fingers through her meticulously combed hair. Goddamn it, why did this have to happen now, in the morning, an hour before her date with Marcel at the aquarium?

“Fine, to answer those questions; yes, yes minus the dimension part and yes.” She replied.

“What’s it gonna be this time? A demon? A demigod? Satan?” Joan asked. “Oh crap, please don’t tell me it’s Raven’s satanic demigod father Trigon.”

“No to all of those.” Dahlia deadpanned. “It’s a long story and as much as I would love to fill you in on it, I have a date in _an hour_.”

Joan frowned, her lips pressing together into a hard line.

“…fine, but this conversation ain’t over.” Joan said.

“Thank you.” Dahlia sighed.

“Wait, you lost, right? So where’re you taking Marcel?” Joan asked.

“To the aquarium.” She replied, putting on a sun hat. She didn’t want to risk the public or worse, paparazzi noticing her.

“Have fun.” Joan waved as Dahlia left.

The aquarium, huh? Hm………………….memory serves, Kaldur mentioned heading there too….maybe he wouldn’t mind some company.

* * *

“You’re looking ship shape and ready for today, Marcel.” Tikki remarked.

“Thanks, Tikki.” He said. “I’ve wanted to wear this hoodie for a while now.”

Currently he was wearing a simple navy turtleneck under a white sleeveless cropped hoodie with a gradient colored sea turtle painted on the back, slacks and high-tops. His messenger bag was already slung and filled with the sketchbooks and stationeries he’d need for sketching down the muse he’s bound to find at the aquarium. The Horse Miraculous was flipped back on his head.

Yesterday after a quick discussion, Dahlia decided to bring Marcel on a date to the aquarium. He’d pointed out that his class was already planning to go there on the same day but in true Dahlia style- a style he’s starting to pick up and adapt to- she wasn’t deterred.

_“Then we’ll simply meet up there.”_

_“But what if Mme. Bustier-”_

_“If she wants to interfere then I welcome a challenge. Just know that I don’t intend to lose.”_

Again, Marcel is glad he loves his girlfriend and vice versa, kwami forbid she ever becomes his enemy.

“That girl of yours is a true stallion. Galloping towards her destination regardless of the terrain.” Kaalki said as though reading his thoughts.

“One of many reasons why I love her.” He said.

Opening the door, he was surprised to see Nino there.

“Oh! Hey…..morning, du-I mean, Marcel.” He said.

“Morning, Nino.” Marcel greeted, voice flat but amiable. “Can I help you?”

“Um…….” Nino fiddled with his cap, a telltale sign he was nervous. “Nothing just…you got a sec? Or is it too early for you? I mean, if it is then that’s cool. I can come back later.” He added.

“Nino, just spit it out.” Marcel told him flatly.

It……hurt honestly. Nino had been his childhood long before _l’ecole primaire_ and yet, he was one of many to turn on him. Maybe he didn’t actively bully or shun him but he didn’t do anything to help either. For the past three years things have grown tense to the point that they seem to pretty much ignore one another’s existence altogether.

Yeah, he understood that Nino just wanted to stand by his girlfriend’s side and support her but still, it hurt that he chose his misguided girlfriend over his childhood friend and deep down, Marcel knows he can never just forgive him for that.

“I……………..” he sighed and placed his cap back on. “I….just wanted to make sure you were up, y’know? So you….don’t miss the bus. We’re heading to the aquarium today.”

“Well, I’m up…..can I go grab some breakfast now?” Marcel asked, unwilling to let awkwardness settle.

“Sure.” Nino said, stepping aside.

Marcel brushed past him, willing himself to look down at the suddenly interesting ground as he shuffled towards the elevator.

No, he wasn’t going to let Nino ruin his mood. Nope, he was about to head to the aquarium to spend time with his amazing girlfriend and away from the toxic people called his classmates.

“Look who’s finally decided to grace us with his presence!” Alix said, waving at him from a table.

“You’re up early.” Marcel remarked.

“Woke up early to go for a quick skate.” She shrugged.

“Morning, Marcel.” Sabrina greeted politely.

“Morning.” Chris said distractedly as he stared off into space, a rather dopey smile on his face.

“He’s been like that all morning.” Alix whispered to Marcel. “I’m giving him another hour before I whack him.”

“Alix, for the last time, you are not bashing Chris’s skull with a baguette!” Sabrina hissed.

“Leave the man be, Alix.” Marcel agreed. “Let him have his moment.”

“….you’ve got five seconds to spill what the hell we missed out on yesterday before I start whacking.” Alix said.

“Five seconds? How generous.” He quipped.

“Three seconds…..two……” she growled.

“Okay okay, he met a girl.” He conceded.

“…….say wha?” Alix asked, dumbfounded.

“Deets.” Was all Sabrina said, leaning forward eagerly with barely contained excitement.

“Well……..”

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

_“So……this is goodbye I guess.” Chris said, rubbing the back of his neck._

_“You do know you’ve got my number, right? I’m just a phone call or text away, city boy. Don’t sweat it.” Joan said, hip-bumping him._

_“I know. I just wanted to say that I had fun today. Really, I did and I wouldn’t be saying this if you hadn’t shown up to hang out with me too.” He told her sincerely._

_“Same to you. We should do this again sometime.” She suggested._

_“Easier said than done. You live in Metropolis, if not it’s Smallville, Kansas. Won’t travelling back and forth just to meet each other be kinda troublesome?” he pointed out._

_“Trust me, I have my ways of travel.” She said with a conspiratorial wink. “But I meant what I said Chris. I really wanna hang out with you and get to know you more.”_

_Her voice was so open, so honest, so sincere without any pretense in it. Chris wished more people in the world could be like that….like Joan._

_“I wouldn’t mind that.” He admitted, giving her another rare smile. “Thanks again, for the fun hang out, the arcade and this memento to remember you by.” He playfully waved the Supergirl plushie._

_“Yeah……..speaking of the arcade……”_

_She bent down and Chris blinked._

_Soft lips pressed against his cheek._

_His brain froze, his muscles going slack while his bones turned rigid. His heart skipped a beat and his senses dulled to turn his surroundings into nothing, as though the world was stopping just for this brief moment._

_“For saving me from that creep.” She smiled and patted his shoulders. “My hero.” She chuckled._

_The sun was shining down on her, making her blue eyes twinkle like a clear blue sky, her wavy black hair like the feathers of a bird with the softness of a cloud, her smile as radiant as the sunlight._

_“See ya around, city boy!” with a wave with one hand and a bee plushie in the other, she ran off._

_Slowly, Chris brought a hand up to caress the cheek she kissed. Even now he could’ve sworn he could still feel her soft lips pressed against his as the smell of fresh earth and sun lingered._

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Alix whistled.

“Damn, first you and now Chris. If I’d known Gotham was the new ticket to finding love I would’ve come here years ago!” Sabrina exclaimed.

“Didn’t know country girls were Chris’s type.” Alix remarked.

“Neither did I but hey, life’s full of surprises.” Marcel said.

“Think we should snap lover boy that back to reality?” the pinkhead asked, nodding towards Chris.

“Allow me.” Sabrina said.

While Sabrina went to gently snap Chris out of his daze, Marcel noticed the trio of Nathaniel, Rose and Juleka walk over towards his table.

“Morning, Marcel. Sleep well?” Juleka greeted.

“Morning, Juleka. Slept fine, thanks.” He greeted back politely.

“Is it alright if we sit at your table?” Nathaniel asked.

Marcel’s face softened as he realized they were truly making an effort to reconcile with him.

“Of course.” He said, scooting away to give them room.

The trio felt a weight lift off their chests as they sat down beside Marcel for the first time in three years.

“I can’t wait to go to the aquarium.” Rose gushed. “It’s been so long since I’ve been to one.”

“Rumor has it one of the marine lives there was saved by Aquaman.” Nathaniel said.

“Aqua _lad_.” Juleka corrected.

“The one with the Teen Titans?” Marcel piped in.

“Yeah. He’s so cute.” Rose gushed.

“Should I be jealous?” Juleka teased.

Marcel smiled as they all continued to tease and banter. It….kinda felt like old times.

“So, will we be seeing your girlfriend at the aquarium later?” Nathaniel asked.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Marcel deadpanned.

The artist rolled his eyes.

“Come on, Mar, I know I’m a wallflower and all but I’m not blind. As the saying goes, once is incident, twice is coincidence and thrice is a pattern.” The redhead said matter-of-factly.

“Sometimes it’s the quiet ones who know what’s said the most.” Juleka said with her own smirk.

“I’m really happy for you, Marcel.” Rose said. “She seems to make you happy and it’s so sweet that she’s willing to defend you like she did at the park.”

Marcel blushed. “Thanks guys. I’m really grateful to have such an amazing girlfriend too.” He said. “She’s just….amazing.” he sighed with a love struck look.

“Ugh, all this mushy love stuff is like old granny perfume. Too fragrant.” Alix gagged. “No offence, Rose.” She added.

“None taken.” The blonde replied.

“You really have high taste. First it was the daughter of the Agreste brand and now it’s the Wayne Princess.” Nathaniel mused.

At that, all of them- even the previous daydreaming Chris- looked at him, their heads snapping so fast they nearly got whiplash.

“Wha-”

“How-”

“When-”

“You knew?!”

Nathaniel shook his head. Seriously, he knew he was the introverted artist, a wallflower in class to the point he may as well be invisible but that doesn’t mean he was ignorant! Being unnoticed had its perks, one of them being the fact that you tend to notice a detail that the noticed ones might’ve overlooked.

“Why else would she, a girl our age, be at Wayne Industries? Plus, all you gotta do is compare her profile to the Wayne family pictures online and you can see the resemblance.” He explained.

Marcel realized that Nathaniel had a point. Not to mention the fact that Nathaniel was an artist; he’s spent so long studying and drawing features on people’s faces he probably has a knack for comparing them and noticing the dots to connect.

“Oh my god, you’re in love with Dahlia Wa-” Marcel’s eyes widened and he pounced to cover Rose’s mouth.

“Shh!” he hissed.

“I don’t think you should say that out loud.” Juleka muttered.

“No $hit.” Chris snorted.

“I rather keep our relationship on the down low.” Marcel said.

“But still, you’re in love with _the_ Bruce Wayne’s only biological daughter!” Rose squealed in a more subdued tone.

“Speaking of Bruce Wayne, have you and Dahlia talked about….y’know……” Sabrina gestured vaguely with her hand, unsure how to put it out tactfully.

“Meeting her family? Yeah, she’s told me they want to meet me.” Marcel said.

“Well, no pressure whatsoever to that.” Chris snorted again.

“I like you better when you were daydreaming.” Marcel muttered.

“Ditto.” Alix agreed.

“Shut up.” Chris snapped, looking away with a pink tint to his cheeks.

“What’s up with him?” Nathaniel asked Alix.

“Kubdel, don’t you dare-” Chris growled.

“Blondie here found himself a girlfriend~” Alix blurted, giving Chris a $hit-eating grin.

“SAY YOUR PRAYERS YOU GREMLIN!” the blonde howled as he made to pounce across the table to strangle Alix. Sabrina quickly intervened by grabbing his waist, just as he propped his foot up.

Marcel saw Nathaniel do the sign against evil; Juleka was hugging Rose as though to protect her from a wolf ready to pounce on her; Alix was laughing her ass off, unfazed by the attempted murder and Sabrina was displaying amazing strength by restraining a still raging Chris by herself.

Yup, just like old times.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Marcel gazed outside the window of the bus, counting the cars that passed by to distract himself, sparing his sanity himself from the displeasure of having to watch his other classmates smooch up to Lila as she spun another tall tale.

“It was so cool to swim underwater like that! I even got to ride a dolphin Aquaman summoned just for me. I helped free all the sharks back into the Atlantic while he and Aqualad fought off the pirates.” Lila said.

“You think the King of Atlantis would be willing to give a mere mortal reporter like me an interview for my blog?” Alya asked, typically pouncing on the chance to add another interview to get more views.

“Maybe. I mean, he is a king and you know how busy he is. Not to mention a superhero at that.” Lila replied.

“Does the guy really have gills like they say he does?” Kim asked.

“Yup. How else could he swim underwater like that?” Lila said in an assertive matter-of-fact tone.

“The sharks would’ve done the world a favor if they just ate her when they had the chance.” Chris snickered to Marcel who snorted.

“It’d be nice to see Atlantis though.” Nathaniel mused. “I mean, imagine how culturally exquisite their art is.”

“Who knows? Maybe someday I can convince him to bring us on a tour through Atlantis. I am the daughter of a diplomat after all.” Lila boasted.

“Looks like you got your wish.” Sabrina snickered.

“Haha.” He deadpanned.

Alix was spared from the suffering thanks to her earbuds while Rose and Juleka were cuddling in their own little bubble, ignoring the world around them.

“…..hey Chris?” Nathaniel rather boldly inquired.

“What?” the blonde asked.

“Not saying you do have a girlfriend but who did you meet yesterday?” he asked.

“Why is it any of your business, Kurtzberg?” Chris sniffed haughtily.

“Chris, be nice.” Marcel scolded.

“Fine.” He huffed. “I met the BFF of my bro’s girlfriend.”

“…………ah.” Nathaniel said as though that alone cleared everything up.

“Awfully convenient, huh?” Juleka mused.

“What’s convenient?” Chris asked.

“You’re in love with the BFF of Marcel’s girlfriend, the four of you line up perfectly!” Rose said.

“Wha-I never said I was in love with her!” Chris spluttered.

“You aren’t?” all of them asked, in Marcel, Sabrina and Alix’s case- the latter having taken out one earbud to eavesdrop on the conversation- with a raised brow.

“Well, I mean, I enjoy her company but-” then he scowled. “Why am I even telling you plebeians this, mind your own business!” he huffed, crossing his arms and turning away, pointedly looking out the window.

Marcel hid a smile by doing the same.

None of them decided to mention how red Chris’s ears were.

* * *

Dahlia tucked a locked behind her ear for the umpteenth time and checked her reflection for the umpteenth time before checking the time, again, for the umpteenth time.

She felt….well, nervous wasn’t the right description, wound-up was more accurate.

Even with the sun hat on she felt exposed. She was also starting to wonder if wearing a casual strap dress was the right choice of attire for this.

Long ago, she never would’ve considered wearing a dress for anything less than practical reasons yet now………

She shook her head. She was overthinking like Drake and that’s not a good thing. But she couldn’t shake the feeling of foreboding that something or someone was going to cause a hiccup today.

Her hand surreptitiously touched her purse where her utility belt was stashed.

Finally, she saw her angel arrive with his class. She sashayed towards him with her best smile, the same dazzle she always used for the papers.

Marcel saw her and his heart thumped quicker.

She was wearing a denim blazer over a casual strap dress that was modest but still short enough to make his face heat up. She also wore a sun hat- something told him it was for security as well as an accessory choice- with sneakers and a matching purse.

Lila noticed Marcel staring in awe at someone. Turning around, she scowled when she saw it was that damn Gothamite girl again. Even with that pathetic hat on, she can make out the wretch’s face.

“Mme. Bustier!” she called. “It’s that girl again!” she pointed towards her.

Instinctively, all eyes turned towards her. Dahlia clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes, not breaking stride. Typical cattle.

“Miss, can I help you?” Bustier asked warily, stepping forward.

“You can help by staying out of my way.” She said coldly, not even sparing a glance at her as she walked past the teacher as though she wasn't even there.

“That’s one way to make an entrance.” Marcel greeted, ignoring his classmates and trying to calm his heart.

“It runs in the family.” She said, giving him an affectionate peck on the cheek.

He heard the whispers, murmurs and pointed looks being shot his way by his classmates. He tried to ignore it but each point, each pair of eyes stirred the unease in his stomach.

Dahlia just stared at them before placing her hands on her hips.

“I thought the point of an aquarium is to admire the marine life?” she asked.

“What are you doing here?!” Alya demanded.

“To spend time with my wonderful boyfriend who’s unworthy of your presence.” Dahlia sniffed.

“Marcel, this is a class trip. You’re part of this tour, you can’t just run off with someone else even if it’s with your uh….girlfriend.” Mme. Bustier said.

“What if I don’t run off with her?” Marcel asked.

“Then that’s…..fine.” she said.

“Okay then.” He said with a shrug. “Hope you don’t mind the extra company.” He said, offering Dahlia his hand.

“As long as I’m with yours.” She said, hooking her hand with his.

“Whoa whoa whoa, back up a sec! When the hell did you get a girlfriend?!” Kim asked.

“When the hell did I ask you for your opinion on the matter?” Marcel snapped back icily.

“Marcel how could you?!” Lila sobbed. “This is too far, how can you manipulate that poor girl-”

“Shut up or I’ll cut your tongue off.” Dahlia growled. Instantly, a chill settled over the class and even Lila’s crocodile tears stopped.

“The only manipulator I see here is you. You and your crocodile tears, they’re _pathetic_. I would date Marcel even if I had to give up every single possession I own. And unlike you, I don’t need to rely on shallow manipulation to feel accomplished.” She huffed.

“Have I mentioned how badass you are?” Marcel whispered to her.

“You can stand to mention it more.” He smirked.

“Young lady, you have gone too far.” Mme. Bustier said, a scowl on her face. “I need to ask you to leave.”

“Or you’ll do what, give me detention?” Dahlia mocked.

“Where are your parents?” Mme. Bustier asked.

“Alive and well.” She replied.

Mme. Bustier took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of her nose. She closed her eyes and tried to fight off the headache she felt building.

“Marcel, please, you have to-”

She did a double-take when all she saw was empty space.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“ _Oh mon dieu_ , we just pulled a ninja on Mme. Bustier.” Marcel said, not sure whether to be terrified or excited to the point he wanted to laugh his ass off.

“We’re not fast, she’s just slow.” Dahlia replied, voice smooth as glass.

“You’re badass.” He said again.

“Thanks. Now.” She paused to straighten her blazer and adjusted her sun hat. “I believe I owe you a date.”

Marcel grinned. “Yes, you do.” He said.

Hand-in-hand they strolled through the aquarium, the scuffle with his class forgotten as he allowed himself to be mesmerized by the beautiful majestic marine life in the aquarium and Dahlia’s reassuring presence.

“That is a Bellus angelfish, their taxomony is _Genicanthus bellus_.” Dahlia explained, pointing towards a light blue angelfish with wide black bands. The light blue of its scales looked radiant, almost shining in the water.

They had gone on like this- Marcel would sketch whatever catches his eye while Dahlia gave him a lecture/explanation of each fish. If he didn’t know better, he would’ve taken her for a marine biologist considering how vast her knowledge of all this was.

“They exhibit strong sexual dimorphism. Females have black bands whereas males have orange bands.” She added.

Marcel paused and looked up. “Say wha?”

“Females have black bands whereas males have orange bands.” She repeated.

“No, before that.” He said.

“They exhibit strong sexual dimorphism.” She repeated.

“Sexual di-what now?” he asked.

“Sexual dimorphism is the condition where two sexes of the same species exhibit different characteristics beyond the differences in their sexual organs.” She explained like a professor.

“…..was that mentioned in the pamphlet?” he asked.

“Have you been assuming that everything I’ve been saying thus far was simply memorized off a pamphlet?” she asked, sounding slightly offended.

“No, just…..wow. You really know a lot about marine life, don’t you?” he said.

“Angel, I knew seven languages by the time I was growing my teeth.” She deadpanned.

His eyebrows went up so high, they touched his hairline.

“Are you some kinda prodigy?” he asked.

“I am a woman of many talents.” She said cryptically. “Oh and that’s a Cortez angelfish, taxomony _Pomacanthus zonipectus.”_

And so they went on. Dahlia looked at Marcel fondly as he exuberantly sketched away, rambling on about all kinds of inspirations and majestic details the marine life surrounding them exhibited. His bluebell eyes were twinkling with delight, his smile happy and carefree as it should be.

“Sorry.” Marcel panted after finishing another rant. “You must be getting bored.” He said sheepishly.

“With you? Never.” She said, leaning a head against his shoulder.

Marcel smiled.

“Hey, _ange?_ ”

“Hm?”

“Thanks.” He said softly. “This date….it’s wonderful and gorgeous.”

“Didn’t know a date could be gorgeous.” She quipped.

“Who said I was describing the date.” He asked, cheekily smirking at her.

“Touché.” She chuckled.

She closed her eyes and sighed in content. Everything was perfect……..

“Hey D!”

And then it wasn’t.

“Joan?!” Marcel said, surprised when he saw Dahlia’s Metropolis friend running towards them, dragging another teen along with her.

As they approached he noticed the teen with Joan was approximately slightly older than them. He had tanned skin and shaved blonde hair, wearing a high-neck jacket and sweatpants.

“What are you doing here?” the couple asked.

“Oh you know, just passing by.” Joan said cheerily.

“What a coincidence….” Dahlia gritted out.

For the love of god, Gotham was a huge city! Couldn’t they be anywhere else right now instead of here, interrupting her date with her boyfriend?! And what was Kaldur doing here? Wasn’t he supposed to be with the Titans?

To be fair, her Atlantean teammate seemed a bit uncomfortable himself, shooting her an apologetic look.

“Kaldur wanted to see the turtles and I decided to tag along.” Joan explained. That was true.

Kaldur nodded fondly. “Honu is doing well. He is happy.” He said.

“Honu? You named him? You two must be pretty close.” Marcel said. “Oh, I’m Marcel by the way, Marcel Dupain-Cheng.”

“Call me Kaldur. It’s nice to meet you, Marcel. Joan has spoken highly of you.” He said, shaking his hand.

“Thanks.” Marcel said humbly.

“Excuse us for a minute.” Dahlia said before grabbing Joan and dragging her off.

“What. Are. You. Doing?” she growled, looking ready to skin her alive.

“Chill, I just wanted to tag along with Kaldur to the aquarium!” Joan said, putting her hands up guilelessly.

“Don’t play cheeky with me. Give me one good reason not to skin you alive right here and now.” Dahlia snapped.

“I’m worried for you, okay?” Joan snapped exasperatedly. “I’m…..” she looked away, cheeks red. “I’m worried for Chris.”

“As touching as that is, it is none of your concern.” Dahlia stressed.

“Dahlia, I love you but frankly your opinion means fiddle to me.” Joan said, glaring- having the damn audacity to defiantly _glare_ at her.

“……………………why?” Dahlia asked, her eyes narrowing. “Why, Joan?”

“Because I won’t be able to live with myself if I know something as big as whatever this is is happening under my nose and I’m not doing anything about it! Chris and Marcel have been broken that badly god knows how many times already and I’ll be damned if I let that happen again when I know I can do something to help.

“I wear the ‘S’ on my chest the same reason you wear that ‘R’ on yours, D. Please, let me help.” She pleaded.

Dahlia gazed at the one girl in the whole world she would willingly call her best friend.

“You really care about Chris, don’t you?” she asked, her lip almost quirking up.

“And Marcel!” Joan added rather quickly. “And well, you of course.” She fumbled.

“Meet me at the train trailer after my date. Be sure to bring a snorkel.” Dahlia relented.

Joan perked up.

It was a code phrase they’d come up with back when they started working together as the ‘Super Gals’- a name that Dahlia still cringed at. It basically meant to meet up at their old HQ.

Dahlia felt a small pang of nostalgia hit her. Just like old times…..

“Now, if you’re satisfied, I would appreciate it if you and Kaldur left so Marcel and I can continue to enjoy our date without any interruptions.” She said pointedly.

“Yes ma’am.” Joan said with a mock salute.

“You know, Chris is here too.” She helpfully supplied.

“You know, yesterday I told him I’d be back in Metropolis.” Joan sheepishly said.

Dahlia shrugged. “Your lost.”

“Haha, laugh it up.” She said before turning around to leave. “Oh and D?”

“What?” she asked impatiently.

“Thanks for trusting me.” Joan said sincerely.

“Hmph.” She simply huffed.

As Joan walked away, Dahlia finally said words she knew Joan would pick up either way.

“Thank _you_ for having my back.”

Up ahead, Joan smiled.

* * *

“Whaddaya think lover boy’s doing with his lovebird right now?” Alix asked.

Chris shrugged. “Probably being sickeningly sweet and lovey-dovey around each other. I swear one of these days I’m going to come down with diabetes.”

“You’re just jealous.” Alix teased.

“Oh please, why would I be jealous?” Chris huffed.

“Don’t worry, Chris. I’m sure you’ll find someone someday.” Sabrina said.

“Yeah whate-” he paused when he noticed something in the reflection.

Whipping his head around, his eyes scanned through the crowd and…..there!

Wavy black hair. Blue eyes under spectacles.

Joan.

But….how?

“Joan!” he found himself shouting.

For a moment, she froze and he could’ve sworn their eyes met.

Then someone walked pass him, blocking him. Cursing under his breath he shoved past the person-

Only to find no one there.

“……the hell?” he asked.

On the other end of the room, Joan released a long breath of relief before turning around and hightailing out of the room.

She didn’t know why but for some reason, her heart felt….heavy. Like it was dragging down, reluctant to leave.

“Are you alright?” Kaldur asked, noticing her slight downcast expression.

“I’m fine.” She said.

She was fine…..right?

She bit her lip, trying not to linger on the peck on the cheek she gave Chris yesterday with those same lips.

* * *

“-And those are Banggai cardinalfish, _Pterapogon kauderni_. They’re a small tropical cardinalfish in the Apogonidae family.” Dahlia explained.

Marcel decided to spare his sanity by the numerous marine jargons by focusing on trying to catch the details on the small fish.

“You can probably land yourself a job here.” He said.

“I can probably buy the whole place if I wanted to.” She said nonchalantly with a shrug.

“…..you really go all out, don’t you?” he asked.

“I give everything my best as I always do.” She replied. “….I probably sound like a snob, don’t I?”

“No. Actually….you kinda remind me of a friend of mine.” He said.

“Do I now?” she asked.

“Kagami Tsurugi.” He said.

“Daughter of Tomoe Tsurugi? I’ve heard of them.” Dahlia mused.

“She’s a really sweet girl past the whole ‘Ice Queen’ cliché.” Marcel said. “She was just a bit lonely and had a strict upbringing. Past all that, she’s a good friend.”

“ _Just_ a friend?” she couldn’t help but ask suspiciously.

Once again she felt the ugly yet intimate pang erupt inside her before she could stop it.

“ _Just_ a friend.” He confirmed. “…..not gonna lie to you, Dahlia. In all honesty….my love life hasn’t been the smoothest journey in my short life.” Then he smiled at her. “Till now.”

“You know I would only offer you the best vessel of the highest quality equipped with state of the art gear.” She said.

“I’m supposed to be the one doing the courting you know.” He teased.

“You can do so by giving me pastries, kisses and cuddles every day.” She said.

“Pastries, kisses and cuddles?” he repeated.

She nodded.

“Every day?” he repeated.

She nodded again.

Then her eyes widened as he swept her off her feet and kissed her right then and there.

“I’ve got the kissing part down.” He said cheekily with a grin that Grayson would’ve been proud of.

“Indeed you do.” She purred.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“I don’t know about you but I’m famished.” Marcel said after a while. “Wanna head to the food court for a bite to eat?”

“I have a better idea.” She said, guiding him towards the exit.

“Uh, the food court’s that way.” He said.

“The restaurant’s this way.” She corrected.

“Restaurant?!” he asked.

“This is my date, angel. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m the one who did the planning.” She said.

“Well colour me surprised.” He muttered. “I should let the others know first though……before they leave me behind again.”

“I’ve already notified them.” She said.

“You have Mme. Bustier’s number?” he asked.

“I have Chris, Alix and Sabrina’s.” she said.

“But-”

“No offence Marcel but even if you do tell your class, even your homeroom teacher do you really think it’ll matter as long as that Italian harlot is there?” she asked.

“……so what’s on the menu for lunch?” he asked.

Unbeknownst to the couple, they were being watched from the rooftops. Slitted green eyes glared at Dahlia, frowning as she watched the dangerous girl walk off with her Prince.

‘Damn it, Mar, what did I tell you?!’ she mentally growled in annoyance. Her Prince was always the stubborn type, she should’ve known better.

She felt a hiss escape her lips as the witch held his hand like some leech, leaning her head against his shoulder- she _doesn’t deserve_ to be near him like that.

_‘She shouldn’t be with him. She should be with someone better, like you.’_

The thought was so tempting. It was so sweetly seductive like syrup.

She watched as Marcel smiled at the girl, so pure, so warm, so radiant, so beautiful; why wasn’t _she_ the one on the receiving end of that smile? What did that Gothamite girl do to deserve the pleasure of having that smile aimed towards her?

_‘That smile doesn’t belong to her.’_

Because it belongs to _her._

After Lila showed up, Marcel had reserved that smile for her and only her. Even Chris, Alix and Sabrina didn’t see that kind of smile because it was _hers and hers alone._

But not anymore. Not since that damned b!tch showed up and stole him away from her-

_‘You can change that. You can have him back. It’s simple when you have the power of destruction at the tip of your fingers.’_

Her claws dug into the concrete like it was foam as she bit her lip, torn.

Marcel said she wasn’t dangerous and she made him happy so who was she to take that from him? She wanted to trust his judgment, he was always so kind and forgiving towards others but…..

But isn’t that the same reason to have doubts? What if someone took advantage of his kindness? What if that’s what the girl was doing right now?

‘But she’s nothing compared to me. I’m the wielder of the Black Cat, she can’t beat me.’

She can do it. She can swoop in right then and there, here and now and save her Prince. Save him from pain. Save him from heartbreak.

Not letting the couple out of sight, she followed them. She went from rooftop to rooftop, leaping across gaps with ease, sliding down slanted surfaces and crawling across vents.

Marcel may be kind and strong but he didn’t have her instinct for danger. She’s a superhero, she knows better but Marcel refuses to see that. She didn’t care if it was pride or jealousy, she was going to get him away from that girl and see reason.

She crouched down with narrowed eyes and prepared to pounce onto her prey and save her Prince. Ready to-

“Whatcha spying on, kitty cat?”

She stiffened. Turning around, she saw a tall girl- _mon dieu_ , she was almost as tall as Ivan!- standing there.

She had wavy black hair and smiling blue eyes, the lower half of her face concealed by a cowboy scarf. She wore a denim jacket over a ripped shirt and cargo shorts with cowboy boots.

She stood there casually, hands stuffed into her pockets, not at all fazed as though it was totally normal to find a blonde girl in a catsuit on a rooftop at this time of the day.

“None of your business.” Chat Noir hissed.

“Sorry hun but it very much is my business. Stalking is a crime, y’know?” she said.

“I wasn’t stalking!” she defended.

“Then enlighten me, what were you doing?” the stranger asked.

“That girl is dangerous!” she snarled, pointing a clawed finger at Dahlia.

“From where I’m standing, the only dangerous person here is you.” She said. “I’m giving you one chance. Scram. Now. ‘Fore I make you.”

“ _You_ should walk away now before _I_ make you.” Chat Noir growled, dropping into a fighting stance and readying her claws.

“Whatcha gonna do? Throw a hissy fit?” she taunted.

“I can do much more than that.” Chat said, baring her claws.

The blue eyes twinkled in amusement, mocking her.

“Oh? I’d like to see you try.” She said before spreading her arms out. “Go on. I’ll let you have the first shot.”

With a snarl she pounced, rearing her claws back and bringing them down-

Only to watch in horror as her claws broke the moment she tried to sink them in. Claws that could cut through steel like butter broke as though they were paper thin ice.

“I _almost_ felt that.” The stranger mused nonchalantly. “My turn.”

She pressed her middle finger against her thumb, placed it in front of Chat Noir’s forehead and flicked.

Chat felt her head snap back, threatening to fall off as she flew back. She gasped, the air getting knocked out of her as she hit a wall and slid down.

Groaning, she brought a hand up and hissed when she felt the bruise blooming on her forehead.

“You’re still up? Huh, either I held back or you do have nine lives.” The stranger mused. “You really wanna test the latter theory that bad?”

“Cataclysm!” she roared, feeling the familiar dark energy surround her hand. She lunged towards her opponent but she sidestepped her and stuck a foot out, causing her to trip and stumble.

She felt her hand press against an air vent.

Joan’s eyes widened as she saw the air vent literally disintegrate into nothing under the copycat’s fingers. Holy $hit, if that’s what happens to an object, what the hell could that have done to an _actual living person?_

This copycat just tried to bloody _kill_ her.

“And here I thought you were just a copycat trying to scratch me. A stalker at best but you’re worse than that.” She said, walking towards her with clenched fist.

The blue eyes weren’t smiling anymore. The tone wasn’t lighthearted, carefree or amused anymore.

The stranger cracked her knuckles as she loomed towards her like a wolf towards a carcass.

“Let’s see how much each of your nine lives can take.”

She hissed and charged forward-

She was sent flying as a whole fist slammed into her face. She saw stars and……something wet was dripping down her nose.

“Strike one.” The stranger said. “Ready to go another round, kitty? I’m just warming up.”

Without another word, she turned tail and ran. She tried to ignore the headache she felt throbbing from the bruise on her forehead and placed a hand against her nose, trying to will the blood to stop.

Finally she ducked into an alley and detransformed. She staggered out and bumped into someone.

Looking up, she blanched when she saw who it was. Even with the cowboy scarf down now, the height and clothes were a dead giveaway.

How the hell did she get here so fast?!

“Oh, sorry!” the stranger apologized. “Hey, did you happen to see- are you okay? Your nose is bleeding.” She asked in concern.

“Huh? Oh, no, I’m fine I just…tripped.” Adrianne fumbled.

“That explains the bruise I guess.” She mused. “Look, this is gonna sound weird but didja see a blondie in a catsuit pass by?”

“No, can’t say I have.” Adrianne shrugged, trying to look as casual as possible.

For a while, the tall girl stared at her. On any other occasion, those blue eyes would’ve been friendly and harmless but now….now they were staring at her so intently it felt as though she was being examined under a microscope.

“Okay. Thanks anyway. Be careful on your way home.” She said, giving her a pat on the shoulder and a friendly smile - as though seconds ago she hadn’t been ready to pummel her into a bloody pulp- before walking off.

Adrianne shook her head. That girl was dangerous and- wait, was she defending Marcel’s ‘girlfriend’? Fu$k, she knew it! She knew that Gothamite girl was dangerous and this just proves it! Why else would she keep such corrupted dangerous company?

She was really starting to hate Gotham.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Dahlia blinked when she felt her phone notify her in three quick successions. She was tempted to ignore it but decided against it.

Putting down her cutlery, she grabbed her phone out from her purse and turned it on. Instantly, she was glad she did.

[Chat name: Gucci Gals with Capes]

SuperAnnoyingGirl: Red light

SuperAnnoyingGirl: Red light

SuperAnnoyingGirl: Red light

It was another code of theirs. She knew that if there’s one thing both of them took seriously, it’s the use of codes especially one as vital as this.

SuperAnnoyingGirl: There was a girl following you. Blonde, catsuit, can destroy anything she touches.

SuperAnnoyingGirl: Be careful. Copycat was eyeing u and ur bf.

Crap.

RoBitch: Got it.

SuperAnnoyingGirl: She has something to do with the whatever it is?

RoBitch: Yes. I will explain later.

SuperAnnoyingGirl: 👌

“Everything okay, Dahlia?” Marcel asked, noticing her furrowed brows.

“It’s nothing, angel.” She said, quickly covering up her sour mood and giving him a dazzling smile.

“Now, I believe it’s time for dessert.” She said, picking up the menu.

* * *

“Bout time you got here.” Joan said, mouth full of Chinese noodles.

Dahlia groaned when she saw the Chinese takeout boxes.

“Joan, what did I say about bringing food down here? The ventilation is horrible and the stench of that garbage excuse for sustenance is even worse!” she snapped.

Joan rolled her eyes.

“So.” She put down her chopsticks and pushed the food aside. “Explain.”

“Get dressed.” Dahlia said, tossing her her jacket. “I’ll explain along the way.”

Joan perked up. “We going camping?”

“Something like that.” Dahlia said. “If you’re going to be a part of this, you might as well make yourself useful.”

“Sweet!” she cheered. “Just like old times.”

“Tt, some things never change it seems.” Dahlia huffed though deep down, even she had to admit she was looking forward to doing this with Joan’s company again. It _has_ been a while……

Damn it, she was getting soft and sentimental.

Stepping out of the changing room, she was satisfied to see Joan had already prepped the pods ready to send them back up.

Thankfully as she grew older, Joan finally altered her uniform into something more mature and actually seemed combat practical- A sleeveless blue cropped zip-up jacket with the signature Shield ‘S’ logo on her chest attached to a red cape and a red miniskirt over ripped blue tights. She also wore red ankle boots and her wavy black hair was left loose to fall around her.

She was a far cry from the well-mannered cheerful country girl.

“After you.” Supergirl said, waving a hand towards the pod.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“Evil magical butterflies. Angsty supervillains. Magical jewelry. Magical boys and girls who are superheroes. Evil magical emotion controlling supervillains. An UNO reverse damage card. Aaaand your boyfriend is basically their Oracle and Alfred.” Supergirl recounted, dumbfounded.

She’s travelled to space and frickin alternate dimensions before but this just takes the cake way beyond moon.

“Pretty much.” Robin said with a shrug.

"And two of his classmates are accomplices? One of em's a manipulative liar and rapist while the other's a Barbie doll doormat who can't face reality?" she added.

"Mmhm." Robin said.

"So that's why that girl was panicked." she realized.

She didn't need to use her x-ray vision back then. She could already hear the wild heartbeat emitting from the girl long before she walked out of the alley. She assumed it was from shock from falling or maybe even getting threatened by copycat herself to remaining quiet but it turns out they were one of the same. Go figure.

“…..I’m never visiting Paris.” Supergirl decided right then and there.

“What about Chris?”

“Shut up, shouldn’t you be doing your spy surveillance stuff?”

Robin just turned away to hide the smirk. Even without the night vision goggles she can see her friend’s blush as clear as day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Instead of Supersons, they went by Super Gals..............sorry but that was the best I could come up with. Also I finally got design Joan's Supergirl costume! /^w^/ been wanting to do that for a while now. Keep in mind that she's stronger now that she's older and more confident in herself. She's almost always seen wearing cowboy boots. For the country girl vibe/aesthetic, y'know? And yeah, Joan was smart enough to think ahead and more or less cover her face before leaping into action.  
> As for the marine jargon, I referred to wikipedia for all the info. And the part where Dahlia mentioned she knew 7 languages? Got that from Supersons too.  
> Btw, yes, Kaldur was the one who saved the turtle-thus the name he gave him- and unlike what Lila said, it wasn't sharks. Typical.


	15. Away from (Toxic) People; Together with (Better) Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two bros reconcile; toxic relationships are abandoned while happy healthy ones are embraced; Robin is ready to skin a cat; Supergirl is along for the ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: There will be mentions of abusive relationships down there. Read at your own risk.  
> Don't get me wrong. I don't hate Alya but one, I'm salty, ok? Two, she's a reporter for crying out loud, she really got hit with the stupidity stick big time during Chameleon. I'm no psychologist but I can conclude that the reason why she's so deadset on not admitting Lila is a liar because to do so would mean she's confessing that she's a bad guy and she can't accept that cuz of self-righteousness.

Marcel hummed to the Jagged Stone song as he methodically sewed the fabric. He heard a knock on the door and paused.

Setting down his project, he opened the door and was surprised to see Nino standing there.

“Hi, Marcel.” The DJ said, giving him an awkward but friendly wave.

“What’s up….?” Marcel asked awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Can I come in? I just wanna talk.” Nino said.

“………..sure.” he said, stepping aside to let him in.

For a while, Nino just stood there, fidgeting with his cap and not looking at Marcel. The latter just crossed his arms, face blank and gaze apathetic but other than that, they weren’t hostile.

The awkwardness began to take hold.

Marcel was ready to tell Nino to get on with it when the DJ beat him to it.

“I’m sorry.” Nino said. “I know that won’t change anything- but please, hear me out first and let me finish. I’m so sorry, I screwed up big time.”

Marcel just raised a brow. “What did you screw up?” he asked.

Yeah, he was being petty but this was different from Nathaniel, Rose and Juleka this was a _childhood friend_ , a guy who knew him since _frickin kindergarten_ even. Nino’s betrayal stung as bad as Alya’s.

“I knew Lila was lying. I mean, at first I thought the girl was just exaggerating and being excited and upbeat to get more friends but…….” He waved his hand, vaguely gesturing. “After a while, I started to see the pattern and noticed all the loopholes, y’know? And well, she never kept any of the promises she made to me- but this isn’t about me. It’s just, everyone liked her and seemed so happy and….”

He looked down, ashamed. “We were so caught up in the new shiny thing that we forgot about you. We ditched you and stepped over your happiness even after everything you’ve done for us and…..and god, I have no excuse. I knew you since we were kids and…and I turned my back on you and left you to drown.

“I-I know I didn’t say anything or do anything but I didn’t do anything and that’s just as bad. I won’t give any excuses because I was wrong, simple as that but I didn’t say anything because….because…….”

“Because of Alya.” Marcel said. “You didn’t want to upset your girlfriend.”

“Yeah.” Nino sighed.

Marcel’s eyes narrowed and he looked closer. He looked-no, he observed. He looked at Nino and it was then he saw it.

He saw the fear.

He saw the hurt.

The same fear and hurt as him…..

“…….Nino.” he said.

“Yeah?” Nino asked.

“I need you to give it to me straight….are you scared of Alya?” Marcel asked carefully.

“What?” Nino asked.

“Are you scared of her? Scared of making her mad?” then he put a finger up to stall him. “I don’t mean a lover’s spat. I mean….does she lash out at you when you upset her? Does she yell at you and pin the blame on you? Guilt-trip you and…and hit you?”

Nino opened his mouth to defend his girlfriend but paused. Did she…..didn’t she do that? Didn’t she lash out at him? Yeah she was temperamental and all but…she….didn’t mean to hurt him, right?

“Nino.” Marcel said firmly. “I’m sorry but time flies and things change…people change. What you and Alya had before was sweet and loving but think about it, when was the last time she’s ever been there for you? When was the last time she showed you any affection or support?”

Nino bit his lip.

That was all Marcel needed.

“Face it, Nino. Alya shows more dedication towards her blog and Lila than she does towards your relationship. Hell, when was the last time the two of you even spent time alone together?” he added.

Marcel was right. Deep down, Nino knew that he was right. Alya was only loving and sweet when she had her way but everytime they fought, everytime they had a disagreement, everytime he tried to sway her to tone it down, she’d lash out. Screams of insults, cold shoulders and glares……what happened to the brave devoted girl he once knew? The one who’d share Andre’s ice cream with him or hide in a closet to play Super Penguino just for fun?

Pictures of them on dates, kissing and cuddling were now replaced with selfies of her and Lila; cuddles replaced with hugs and tackles with Lila; dates became less as outings with Lila to go shopping became more frequent or…or……….

That’s when it all clicked.

“………………..I’m officially the world’s biggest dumb@$$.” Nino moaned, burying his face into his hands.

“Alya’s kissing up to Lila because of opportunities. Opportunities she’s never going to get. Lila’s leading her on a wild goose chase and she’s gobbling up every crumb without a second thought, clinging onto every empty promise and taking every excuse in stride.

“She’s already gone so far, to admit that she’s wrong would mean accepting the truth- that she was an ignorant fool who was manipulated and played like a puppet, humiliated and turned into the bad guy of the story. She doesn’t want to accept reality.” Marcel said.

“It’s toxic, isn’t it?” Nino asked. “All this….it’s…..”

“I think you’d know the answer to that better than anyone.” Marcel said softly.

He felt a pang of pity as Nino crumpled. Walking forward, he gently guided him to sit down and left to give him space at the same time, get him some water to drink.

Nino felt like crap. Actually that’s an understatement; he felt _worse_ than crap. He felt like the very scum of the world. _Merde,_ how could he have fu$ked up so bad?! How could he have been so blind?

He blinked and looked up through blurry eyes to see a glass of water held before him.

“Here.” Marcel said softly.

He grabbed the glass and took a long slow sip before setting it down. He took a deep shaky breath and placed his forehead in his palm.

“God….I’m supposed to be the one apologizing for my mistakes. I thought I finally opened my eyes but……” he shook his head, no words could ever describe how badly he’s messed this all up.

“I’m sorry. I know this won’t change shit and it won’t undo the damage done but…god, I’m so sorry, man.” He choked out. “I’m sorry for doing nothing, I’m sorry I was…I was such a coward, I’m sorry for being a horrible friend. You were my fi-first friend, my best bro and…and I let you down.”

“Hey…..” Marcel said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’re doing something now. That’s a start.” He said kindly.

Nino looked up and saw Marcel giving him a kind smile. Even after everything, even after the widening rift and all the bumps, the dude was still there for him.

“What you did hurt me.” Marcel said bluntly and Nino winced. “You hurt me, Nino. You hurt me just as much as Alya did by turning your back on me. I thought out of all the people in class, I could still rely on you but you proved me wrong and that was a slap to the face.”

Nino wished Marcel would just slap him right then and there.

“I knew you since we were kids so just……..” Marcel sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “What was it, Nino? What did I do wrong? What is it you saw in me that made you believe I was someone worth turning their backs on?”

“It wasn’t you, Marcel. It was never you, it was _me. Me_ who was being a coward, _me_ who was being a horrible friend, _me_. _I_ was the one who screwed the pooch, _not you_ , it was _never_ you, _none_ of this whole mess is because you did something wrong.

“It was me, it was our class, it was our teacher, it was Lila. God, I hate that b!tch.” Nino hissed.

“Feeling’s mutual.” Marcel said wryly.

“Marcel Dupain-Cheng.” Nino said, standing up. Then he went down to his knees and bowed his head, making Marcel panic because he did not expect that.

“You, my dude, have done nothing wrong. I’m the one in the wrong here. I was being stupid, ignorant, a coward, a jerk, an @$$hole, I failed you. I should’ve known better as your childhood friend and…and you don’t have to forgive me. I didn’t come here to ask for forgiveness, I just…I just came to say I’m sorry.” Nino said.

“Nino, please, stand up.” Marcel said, grabbing his bicep and gently pulling him back up to his feet.

“I…..I can’t guarantee we can go back to what we were like before. You broke my trust and….and I can’t just forgive that..I can’t just forget about the pain I had to endure watching you turn your back on me every day.” He said.

Nino didn’t say anything. He was already resigned to this. Of course, no matter how kind even Marcel wouldn’t forgive him for screwing up this bad-

“But I want to be better. I want both of us to be better.” Marcel said. “I don’t want things to be this sour and I don’t want it to end so bitterly. I….I’ve missed you. I miss hanging out with you, I miss listening to your music, I….I’ve missed having my childhood bro.” the last part came out choked as he struggled not to cry himself.

Nino was already crying.

“I want to try. I want us both to try. You in?” Marcel asked, offering him a fist for a fist bump.

Just like old times.

“1000 fu$king percent.” Nino choked out, bumping fists with him for the first time in three years.

“Thank you….thank you, Mar. I swear you won’t regret it.” He said.

“I’ll hold you onto that.” Marcel said.

“I swear on my life and honor that I, Nino Lahiffe-” he placed a hand over his heart and raised his hand, eyes closed as though he was reciting a sacred vow.

“Okay, now you’re just being overdramatic.” Marcel said, batting his hand away.

“Well I am trying to work my way in the movie biz.” Nino said with a grin. “So……we cool?”

Marcel just grinned and slung an arm across his shoulders, fist held out once more.

“We’re cool.”

Nino smiled and they bumped fists.

It was good to have his bro back.

They heard someone clear their throat and looked up to see Chris, Alix, Sabrina, Nathaniel, Juleka and Rose, all of them laden with snacks and water in their arms standing there.

“……we interrupting something?” Chris asked, raising a brow.

“Aaaaand you ruined the moment.” Marcel facepalmed.

“Listen Lahiffe, if you think you can just waltz in here and steal my bro-” Chris growled.

“I come in peace!” Nino yelped defensively, putting his hands out in a placating manner.

“Chris, play nice. We’re cool now.” Marcel said.

Chris stared at Nino long and hard. Man, Nino didn’t notice just how intense the blonde boy’s stare could be until now.

Finally, Chris huffed.

“Whatever. You letting us in or not? These snacks didn’t come cheap.” He grumbled.

“Thanks for the room service.” Marcel joked, letting them in.

Nino glanced around, uncomfortable and feeling very out of place now.

“I’ll um…go now.” He said.

“You don’t have to go.” Marcel said softly, stopping him. “Stay.”

Nino paused, uncertain. Should he……could he…..?

Chris rolled his eyes. Great, Marcel was even using the goddamn puppy eyes, ugh.

“Oh just get your ass over here already!” he barked.

Nino yelped again and scrambled over to comply.

“Dude, chill.” He muttered but didn’t dare look Chris in the eye.

“Remember Chris, play nice.” Alix scolded like a mother scolding her pouty-faced child.

“So, what brings you all here?” Marcel asked, sitting on top of his bed to continue working on his project while the others gathered around, lounging on whatever surface they chose.

“To finally spend time with you without Dahlia darling watching your back like a hawk.” Alix said, popping a chip in her mouth.

“Oh god, please don’t call her that.” Marcel cringed while Chris gagged. Even Nino cringed.

“That girlfriend of yours is savage by the way. She ripped Mme. Bustier a new one…twice!” Nino commented.

“Yup, she’s badass and she’s gorgeous.” Marcel said with a lovestruck sigh.

“I think it’s romantic.” Rose agreed. “A strong female knight protecting the kind selfless prince.”

“So, how did your date with Dahlia go? I told Marc- don’t worry, he can keep a secret- and even he’s dying to know.” Nathaniel asked.

“It was wonderful. If anything, it felt like a dream.” Marcel said. “Also, turns out Dahlia knew seven languages by the time she was growing teeth.”

A good few eyebrows went up at that.

“What is she, some kinda child genius?” Alix asked.

“Maybe she is. I mean, one of Bruce Wayne’s sons is CEO of Wayne Industries and he’s what? In his 20s? 30s? The papers say the guy scored 142 on an IQ test when he was 16.” Sabrina chimed in.

“I wouldn’t be surprised. I mean, Dahlia’s clearly a capable intelligent woman.” Marcel said, leaning back on his hands.

“So’s Joan.” Chris found himself saying before he could stop himself.

“Joan?” they all echoed.

It was then Chris choked as he realized he just opened a huge ass can of worms that were gonna come bite him in the ass like fire ants.

Outside, Supergirl spluttered while Robin bit her lip to stop herself from outwardly showing any amusement. Shoes on the other foot now it seems.

“Joan, huh? Finally, a name to our second mystery gal since coming to Gotham.” Alix said.

“Joan…like Joan of Arc.” Juleka mused.

“They already seem to think highly of you.” Robin mused.

“So?!” she spluttered, face as red as her cape. “I can hear every word they’re saying you know.”

“Then I don’t see why you’re making such a blustering fuss out of this.” Robin replied coolly before turning back.

Oh she was going to enjoy this. Sweet, sweet karma for interrupting her dates with Marcel. Karma is gonna bite Joan in the cape.

Hard.

Yeah, she’s gonna be petty so sue her.

Supergirl ignored Robin and turned her attention back towards the group of teenagers. She decided it was time to stop hearing and opt for the next sense- seeing.

What she saw wasn’t pretty.

“Holy hell….” She whispered in horror.

“What is it?” Robin asked though she already had a sneaking suspicion…..

“How is that redhead still alive? He should’ve been crushed to pulp by now! The blonde wearing pink and emo girl’s been decapitated before, the guy in the cap should be missing an arm and his lungs should be failing and the gingerhead’s been shot before but I don’t see any bullets in her- great Rao, one of them was close to her goddamn spine! How the hell are any of them still alive?” she asked.

“…..remember the UNO reverse damage part I mentioned?” Robin asked.

Instantly, the pieces clicked.

“My god….it…it brings people back from the dead?” she asked, horrified but laced with morbid curiosity.

Robin nodded.

“Holy $hit……holy fu$king $hit.” Supergirl hissed under her breath. “You aren’t kidding when you said Paris was in hot water.”

“Do I ever kid about something like this?” Robin snapped.

“So whatcha doing over there?” Chris asked, desperately trying to change the subject.

“Oh I’m uh…..” Marcel looked down and blushed, muttering something under his breath.

“What?” Chris asked.

Marcel muttered again.

“Dude, speak up, I can’t hear you.” The blonde asked again.

Nino sighed and thumped Marcel on the back. Hard.

“I’m making something for Dahlia.” Marcel blurted out as though Nino’s thump was hard enough to literally knock it out of him.

“D’aw.” Some of them cooed, causing Marcel to blush further.

“What are they saying?” Robin asked, brows furrowing. Not the first time she can’t help but envy how she lacked Supergirl’s enhanced supersenses.

“You can’t hear them? You didn’t bug his room?” Supergirl asked, surprised.

“Of course not! I respect Marcel’s privacy.” Robin said, sounding offended and aghast at that implication.

“Uh huh…..” Supergirl said dryly with a raised brow. “You’re growing soft, aren’t cha?” she teased.

“Less talking, more listening.” Robin growled.

“What exactly are you making?” Nathaniel asked.

“An outfit.” Marcel replied.

“A whole outfit? As in, a set of clothes?” Juleka asked.

“Yup.” Marcel said, popping the ‘p’ as he fell into the repetitive pattern of sewing, poking the needle through the fabric and pulling the thread through.

“What kinda outfit?” Alix asked, a cheeky smirk playing on her lips.

“A jumpsuit and blazer- why are you smirking like that?” Marcel asked, narrowing his eyes.

“No reason.” She said, giving him a too innocent look, even batting her eyelashes for added effect.

“Oh god, she’s been possessed.” Juleka whispered aghast. Beside her, Nathaniel did the sign against evil again.

“Wait, did you think I was going to give her something………..” he fumbled for the right word. “Risqué?!” he spluttered.

Alix shrugged.

“Alix!” Marcel cried, offended, face as red as a tomato.

“I’m kidding! You’re too innocent for that.” The pinkhead waved off.

“Kubdel’s right. You’re too pure to ever consider something like that.” Chris agreed.

Marcel looked down, trying to zero in all his focus onto sewing the fabric. Just focus on the fabric you’re working on, the needle in your hand and the thread you have to focus on not tangling. Yeah, focus on the stitches, not too close, not too far, not too tight, not too loose-

The thought of Dahlia in anything remotely risqué……..

He tried not to linger on how curvaceous her thighs probably were or how she’d feel against-

NO. NO! DO NOT GO THERE! ERROR! ERROR! ERROR!

“Uh….I think you dudes broke him.” Nino said, looking at the steaming red-faced Marcel in worry.

“No kidding.” Supergirl muttered from outside.

“What are they saying?” Robin asked impatiently.

“Nothing of your concern.” She lied. No way is she ruining the sweet heartfelt gift Marcel was putting his heart and soul into making for Dahlia as a surprise.

“Supergirl, I swear if you’re keeping me in the dark here I’ll-”

Then Supergirl snapped her head to the side, eyes narrowing as she held a hand up, prompting Robin to stay quiet. Both girls tensed, turning serious as they dropped their earlier playful banter.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in.” Supergirl said.

Robin followed her gaze and her eyes narrowed, her hand wrapping itself around the hilt of her katana.

“I see her.” She growled as she saw the leather-clad feline infidel climbing down the roof of the hotel-

Right towards Marcel’s window.

* * *

Chat Noir paused, her ears perking when she heard a bout of laughter originating from Marcel’s room. She hesitated when she realized he was in there with friends- friends he’s _finally reconciled with_.

She bit her lip. Should she…..really talk to him now? Was this a bad time? Was she intruding? Should she have listened to Plagg when he told her not to do it this way?

But…..maybe this can work for her. She’s a superhero of Paris, maybe she can get Marcel’s friends to help her convince him. Yeah! She can make this work.

She leaned forward and raised a hand, poised to knock.

Inside, Marcel wiped away tears from his eyes as he regained his breath. Man, he’s missed this. It’s been a while since he’s laughed and joked around with so many friends like this-

His eyes widened and his stomach dropped when he saw a pair of familiar catlike green eyes on his window.

Then he blinked and she was gone.

“Marcel? Dude, you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Nino asked.

Marcel just shook his head and smiled at Nino.

“Probably just a stray cat.” He said with what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“Girl, you have some serious issues.” Supergirl said, frowning in disapproval as though she was dealing with a troublesome child caught climbing something to steal the cookie jar on the highest shelf.

Chat Noir struggled in her grip, her legs pathetically kicking the air and she hissed, trying to scratch Supergirl, prompting the Metropolis superhero to just hold her away by the scruff of her neck.

Supergirl couldn’t believe she was actually dealing with the equivalent of a hissy kitty in a human body.

“I hate animal abuse.” She sighed.

“So do I but this is an exception. Stalking in a serious crime.” Robin growled, stalking forward with her katana in hand. The deadly blade gleamed in the darkness. “And in Gotham, crimes are weeds.”

Schink!

A lock of blonde hair fell to the floor, the blade having passed a paper thin breath away from Chat’s face.

“And weeds are plucked before they can fester and grow.”

“This is none of your business! The only criminals I see here are you two!” Chat Noir blustered. “Stay out of this.”

“B!tch please, you’re a blonde hormonal teenager in a leather catsuit stalking her crush in broad daylight and in the middle of the night, how is that not suspicious in any way?” Supergirl snorted.

“I’m his friend!” the blonde snapped.

“More like a jealous ex.” Supergirl rolled her eyes.

“You don’t understand.” Chat Noir tried to plead but stopped when a blade hovered a hair’s breath away from her neck.

“I will say this once and only once you mangy animal. Marcel is under _my_ protection. He _does not_ require your incompetent presence to ensure his safety. Leave and don’t ever come with a ten feet radius of him, don’t talk to him, hell, don’t even _look_ at him. If I see so much as a cat-ear shadow or a strand of blonde hair, I will skin you alive and kill you nine times over. And I promise you each death will be slower and all the more agonizing each time. Do I make myself clear?” Robin growled.

“You wouldn’t.” Chat Noir said, trying to ignore the noose of fear tightening around her heart. “Yo-you’re a hero, you don’t kill!”

“All the more better, I can torture you. I can hurt you and break you in ways you can never imagine. I will make your worst fears become a reality; I will ensure you live the rest of your miserable life looking over your shoulder, fearing when I will finally arrive to put you out of your misery; I will put you through hell until it drives you so mad, you’ll be begging for the sweet release of death.” Robin said with a vicious smirk that made Gotham criminals wet themselves.

“Yeah, what she said.” Supergirl said, nodding towards her pissed off friend. “Look kitty, my friend here is reeeeaaally tempted to just rip you to pieces right now but I’m the only one who can stop here. So, you get off the hook this one time. But I can’t promise I’ll always be around to stop her and frankly, I don’t care if she kills you nine times over.

“So here’s a piece of advice. You stay away from that boy, you stay away from his friends, you don’t try any funny business or I’ll punch you to the moon and back. You know I can and will do it.” Supergirl said, the last part with a heavy undertone of a threat.

“By the way, that bruise of yours is healing quite nicely. Even your nose looks decent.” Supergirl chirped with false sweetness.

Chat Noir winced, remembering this girl’s fist against her face.

“Good, you got the message.” Supergirl said.

“Punching isn’t enough.” Robin huffed. “I can think of a hundred ways to unleash excruciating pain without killing.”

“See? Can’t say she’s as friendly as me…or as forgiving.” Then she pulled her closer, eyes turning dark. “Touch me or that boy or my friend here with that dark voodoo magic crap and I’ll break your hands starting with every joint in your fingers, kapesh?”

Chat Noir nodded rapidly.

“Remember, kitty cat.” Robin said, holding her katana out so she can see the full length and notice the deadly sharpness it held. “This is my city. I have eyes and ears everywhere in places you can’t begin to decipher.”

“You still didn’t answer her question. You got the message from Robby here?” Supergirl asked.

“Crystal.” Chat Noir croaked her throat suddenly dry as a desert.

“I never forget a face or a name, much less an agreement or a promise.” Robin hissed before sheathing her katana. “We’re done here.” She said, turning around.

“Cats always land on their feet, right?” Supergirl asked no one in particular.

Chat Noir looked at her, confused-

Then gravity took hold of her as Supergirl let go of her and dropped her. She yowled in surprise.

Still hovering in the air, Supergirl dusted her hands off, a satisfied look on her face.

“You could’ve just thrown her. That would’ve been more satisfying.” Robin huffed.

“…nah, this is better.” Supergirl said with a grin. “See? Just like old times.” She chirped.

* * *

“I’m just saying, one day, you’re gonna be a big boy and-”

“ALIX SHUT UP!” a red faced Marcel yelled, hurling a pillow towards her.

“Now now, Marcel. We understand that you’re a growing boy and that these changes might seem frightening-” Chris said.

“YOU TOO?! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE ON MY SIDE, YOU TRAITOR!” Marcel screeched at Chris, readying another pillow.

“Dude, chill!” Nino said, trying to stop his bro from killing someone with pillows.

“This is chaos. Pure unbridles chaos that will pull us into darkness.” Juleka muttered, clutching onto Rose for dear life.

“Marcel, it’s just the birds and the bees talk.” Nathaniel shakily tried to help.

“I don’t need to have the talk again!” Marcel defended petulantly.

“Ah, sweet innocent love.” Chris sighed before ducking as another pillow was hurled towards him.

“You all are diabolical.” Marcel huffed.

“But you love us anyways.” Alix said, draping herself over his body. Seeing this, the ever affectionate Rose jumped in too.

Marcel rolled his eyes but he was struggling to fight off the smile on his face.

“It’s getting late.” Chris said, noticing the time. “I don’t know about you plebeians but I need my beauty sleep.”

“That’s a battle you’ve lost a loooong time ago.” Alix sassed.

“What did you just say you miscreant?!” Chris roared.

“Okay, no more murder attempts, goodnight everyone. Sweet dreams.” Marcel said, pushing them out of his room before bloodstains start appearing.

Nino lingered behind though. He had one last thing to say.

“Hey, Mar?” Nino asked.

“Yeah?” Marcel replied, wondering what else was on his mind.

“Thanks, man.” Nino said with a smile. “For giving me a chance and…and for opening my eyes to how toxic the people surrounding me has become. But most importantly, thanks for giving me a chance to apart of something better, something healthier.”

“Hey, that’s what friends are for.” Marcel said.

They fist bumped before sharing a bro hug, their first one in three years.

It would take some time but…..they’re getting there.

They’re getting away from toxic people and closer to better healthier friendships.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that Joan's older and experienced, she's matured. She usually plays Good Cop to Robin's Bad Cop. She isn't above threatening herself when it comes down to it.  
> Chat, you better be careful. Dahlia AND Robin is out for blood now. 😈▬▬ι═══════ﺤ  
> On the next chapter, the limelight will temporarily be given to our resident city boy and country girl. 😉


	16. Girl Scout (Away) from Metropolis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris and Joan get the limelight.

Chris lounged on his bed, not in the mood to get up just yet. Yawning, he turned his phone on to check the LadyBugOut app.

Nothing. Nada. Not a single akuma sighting.

He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or anxious.

How long has it been now, days? A week? It was quiet, too quiet. That’s gotta meant some kinda calm before the storm crap.

He frowned as another thought struck him. Was the slow akuma activity happening because Adrianne-or rather, Chat Noir- wasn’t there? Does that even make sense? All things considered, the Ladybug Miraculous is more important than the Black Cat Miraculous, right?

Groaning, he buried his head into his pillow. God, his brain was hurting already. Marcel was always better when it came to brains. He was more of the brawn. Yeah he may be bossy but he’s as good at carrying out orders as he is at giving them out himself.

His phone vibrated again. He checked and felt a surge of energy spike through when he realized it was from Joan.

[Chat name: Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain]

CountryGirl: Morning!

CountryGirl: How r u?

Chris smiled. Even her texts seemed as cheerful as her.

CityBoi: Morning. I’m fine.

CountryGirl: U free today?

CityBoi: Yeah. Why?

CountryGirl: Wanna meet up?

CityBoi: Aren’t u in Metropolis? Kansas? Whatever?

CountryGirl: I have my ways.

CountryGirl: Yes or no? Make up your mind, sunshine. I ain’t got all day.

Chris’s finger hovered in front of the screen, unsure. Should he say yes? He….he really wanted to see her again, in person and hang out with her but…he was definitely skeptical on how she’s actually going to make it all the way Gotham in less than a day.

But she didn’t seem like the type to make empty promises. Sides, it’s like he had anything better to do so…..why not?

“Is something wrong, my king?” Pollen asked.

“…..it’s nothing, Pollen.” He said.

“She’s a sweet girl. She’s as beautiful as a flower and just as open to her surroundings. And you know how we bees are with flowers.” Pollen teased.

“Can’t deny that.” He hummed.

CityBoi: Time? Place?

CountryGirl: Where we first met? Noon sound good?

CityBoi: We can go 4 lunch. My treat.

CountryGirl: Really?

CountryGirl: Sweet!

CountryGirl: Thanks

CountryGirl: See u soon <3

He blushed. Man, he wasn’t even talking to her face to face and already texting her alone made him feel so…..fuzzy.

Wait……….why was he feeling so warm and fuzzy? Don’t you only feel that when…..you’re…………………..

Oh god.

Oh good lord.

“Chris?” Pollen asked, noticing how her chosen was already spiraling into an existential crisis.

“Fu$k.” he said, a hand grasping his head. “ _Merde_ , Pollen I think I’m starting to develop a crush on country girl.”

“And?” she asked.

“And!” he waved his hand around wildly. “Pollen, first Marcel and now me? Is Gotham the new city of love now?!”

“Chris, calm down. Take deep breaths, my king. You don’t want to get wrinkles and grey hair now do you?” The kwami soothed.

“My god, I didn’t think I’d fall for a country girl. I mean, that’s not a bad thing and I don’t mind but…………..wow, I did not see that coming.” He said, shaking his head.

“That’s love for you. It’s like fate, coming upon you when you least expect it.” Pollen said patiently.

Chris frowned.

“I dunno Pollen……….what if this isn’t love? What if it’s just admiration?” he asked.

Ever since his deteriorating bond happened with Adrianne, he’s come to realize that back then, despite his clinginess and protectiveness he didn’t ‘love’ Adrianne that way. Yes, he cared for her but it was platonic, a shallow infatuation, naïve puppy love at best.

Yes, there was the understanding from years spent together; yes, there’s the respect from knowing one another for so long and yes, they would throw themselves under the bus for one another but in the end….it wasn’t love. Not the kind of love of a significant other in a romantic way.

It was just admiration at best.

And Chris admired Joan. He admired her despite the brief time they’ve been together. He admired her positivity and cheerfulness; he admired her sincerity and open honesty; he admired her patience and empathy despite her friendliness and chattiness; he admired how she was affectionate yet respectful of others personal privacy.

“She’s…different Pollen. Different from all the other girls I’ve befriended.” Chris said.

“You’re scared. You’re afraid. You’re worried that your attitude and personality will push her away eventually.” Pollen concluded.

Chris sighed and nodded.

“Or worse, she’s just putting up with me out of obligation. I mean, she is the BFF of my bro’s girlfriend and all that. Or even worse than that, she’s just doing it out of pity.” He said.

He hated it when people did things for someone out of pity. There was genuine kindness of wanting to help and then there was pity. They were two entirely different things and the latter was more prominent than the other most of the time.

“Chris, I have lived for centuries. I know a sweet girl when I see one. That girl is honey, not vinegar. She’s as beautiful and pure as a flower but as strong and firm as a tree. And personally, it’s been decades since I’ve seen a girl as honest and simply purely good as her.” Pollen told him.

That’s what Chris liked about Pollen. She may be obedient and loyal but she never gave false hope. She was honest to a fault and willing to speak up. She wasn’t afraid to call him out gently and try to push him back on the right track.

“……….what do you think she thinks about me?” Chris asked. “I……….I’m not exactly a gentleman.”

“My king, you defended her honor back at the arcade, did you not? If that doesn’t say something, I honestly don’t know what will.” She said.

Chris slowly nodded, his confidence returning to him.

Yeah, Pollen’s right. Maybe he can be a bit of an @$$hole, but he can be an @$$hole with a heart of gold at least. And well….if Joan really was giving him a chance, who was he to throw it back at her?

Yeah! He could do this! He was Chris fu$king Bourgeois, he can handle this country girl!

“Alright!” he said, leaping off his bed with renewed energy. “Let’s do this!”

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

‘Oh my god oh my god oh my god, he said yes!’ Joan squealed as she literally floated on cloud nine.

She did it! She finally worked up the nerve to ask Chris to hang out with her again!

Laughing, she flew through the air, doing flips and somersaults and relishing the wind kissing her face. She felt like she could take on an army right now!

“Moooooom!” she called, rushing back to her home.

“Somebody’s on cloud nine.” Her mom remarked.

“Mom, I’m going over to Gotham today.” She said.

“Weren’t you already there yesterday?” Lois asked.

“And the day before.” Her dad chimed in. “Hey, honey.” He said, giving her mom a kiss.

“Yeah but today is different. I’m going over to see a friend.” Joan explained.

“Dahlia? Again?” Clark asked.

“No, my new friend. He’s a French boy from Paris who’s visiting Gotham on a school trip.” She explained.

At that her father stiffened. Internally, alarms were ringing in his head. He didn’t need any superhearing or x-ray vision to know this wasn’t something he could let stride.

“A boy you say.” Clark said carefully.

“Yeah. His name’s Chris.” Joan said, a bit nervous when she saw the wary but hardened look on her dad’s face. “He’s a good guy, dad.”

“How long have you known this boy?” he asked.

“Um….a….day or so. I mean, we exchanged numbers and text!” she said.

Clark frowned. Realizing her husband might get a bit _too_ overprotective, Lois stepped in.

“How did you meet him?” she asked.

“Well………okay, don’t tell D I told you but Chris is her boyfriend’s BFF. I went to visit D the first day and when I found out well, I’m her bestie and all so I insisted on tagging along. Chris was tagging along too and I didn’t want him to feel like a third wheel so we just…talked and all and clicked.

“Then we went to the arcade and had fun and I got him a Supergirl plushie. After that, he returned the favor and got me that new bee plushie I showed you guys. The guy was stubborn, kept using his tokens till he got it for me.” A fond smile spread across her face at that.

“During that time, some creep came up and harassed me- he didn’t touch me or anything, just talked and creeped me out- and then Chris came over to defend me. You should’ve seen him, dad, he was a total badass! He moved like some kinda ninja!” she said, adding some karate chop ninja-like moves to emphasize.

“So he defended your honor? That’s sweet.” Lois admitted.

“Yeah. He’s a rich city boy with a bit of an attitude but….deep down, he’s a good person. He has a heart of gold in him and cares. Come on, dad, you know I can tell.” Joan said.

“I know sweetheart but…you’re growing up. You’re a beautiful strong woman now.” Clark said, gently cupping her cheek. Even though she would probably someday grow to be the same height as him, she was still his little girl in his eyes.

“Then you should know I can take care of myself.” Joan said confidently.

“I’m just worried that some boy might take advantage of you.” He said.

“I’d like to see them try.” She said, cracking her knuckles.

“Do you really trust him, sweetie?” Lois asked her.

Joan nodded.

Lois smiled. “Then go get im, tiger.” She said.

“Yes!” she said, pumping her fist. “Thank you, mom!” she said, tackling her into a bear hug and lifting her off her feet.

“Bring your uniform with you just in case!” Lois said while Clark spluttered at how easily his wife gave her approval.

“But-”

“Bye mom! Bye dad!” Joan said.

And then she was already flying off.

For a moment, Clark contemplated flying after her. Then Lois grabbed his bicep and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“She’s not your little girl anymore. And first and foremost, we both agreed that she has the right to be a normal teenage girl. This is part of the package.” Lois gently told him.

“I know just…….” Clark sighed. “I’m getting old.”

“We all are, Smallsville. We all are.” She said, leaning her head against her husband’s shoulder.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“Chris….” Marcel said.

“Should I take her to a diner or bistro? Or should it be a restaurant?” Chris asked, pacing back and forth.

“Chris….” Marcel tried again.

“So we just go out for lunch and then what? I take her to the mall again? Or should I take her to the park?”

“CHRIS!” Marcel snapped, finally getting his friend to stop pacing and to just _stop and listen._

“Chris Bourgeois, get a hold of yourself.” He said, placing his hands on his shoulders. “You’re acting as bad as me when I went on my first date with Dahlia.”

“This isn’t a date!” then Chris frowned. “Oh $hit….” He whispered, eyes widening in horror. “This isn’t a date, right?!”

“No. No, it is not.” Marcel said firmly. “You, my bro, are just gonna go out and hang with my girlfriend’s bestie.”

“Yeah, no pressure.” Chris snorted.

“Chris, come on. You’re the most confident person I know. If there’s anyone who can show a girl a good time, it’s you.” Marcel told him earnestly.

“………yeah…..okay…” Chris slapped himself. “You’re right. I’m just gonna go hang out with country girl and make sure she doesn’t get lost in the big city.”

“She doesn’t seem like the damsel in distress type.” Marcel said.

“I know she’s not. Those are utterly ridiculous by the way.” Chris said with an eye roll.

“Well if you’re done freaking out, let’s get you an outfit to wear.” Marcel said.

“Oh please, I’m Chris Bourgeois, I can wear a potato sack and make it look good if I wanted to.” His friend said, evidently regaining his haughty confident attitude.

“There’s the Chris I know.” Marcel said with a smile. “Now let’s get to work.”

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Chris tried to make sure his heart was beating at a normal pace as he walked towards the meet-up point. The good thing about Gotham’s chilly winds is that it effectively dried his sweaty palms.

Ugh, the thought of holding hands with sweaty palms- especially holding the hand of a girl- made him shudder and gag.

He huffed and straightened his blazer. The outfit Marcel chose for him was good. There was never any doubt though considering Marcel’s expertise in fashion and his natural good looks.

A black blazer over a graphic tee with ripped jeans and high tops. His miraculous was pinned to the lapel of his blazer and his sunglasses flipped back on top of his hair.

As he waited to cross the road he paused. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and an unease grew in his gut.

Something wasn’t right. His ‘sixth sense’; the natural instinct for danger he’s developed in his career as a superhero was giving him a heads-up.

He surreptitiously checked a nearby road mirror and saw it.

Two men wearing caps were some distance away from him. Their heads were kept down so the bill of their caps obscured their faces. One had their hands stuffed into their pocket while the other was ‘reading’ a newspaper.

Yeah right. Even from here, Chris could tell the newspaper was a hoax. It was too thin and the pages were ripped.

He didn’t show any outwards signs. The light turned green and he calmly continued to stride towards his destination, body casually relaxed. His eyes lazily looked at nothing in particular but in reality, he was trying to gauge possible escape routes.

Was there a police station nearby? Maybe he could go there? Or should he try entering one of the shops? Maybe he can mix in with a crowd?

He checked a nearby window. Shoot, the two of them were walking faster now. The newspaper was gone and so was his buddy. Looking forward, he saw that the other guy was in front of him.

 _Bon sang_ , he was careless. They must’ve split up so they could flank him. He was in a pinch now.

He eyed an alleyway. It seemed secluded but more or less spacious enough. Plus, if these punks were underestimating him, he could make this work.

Decision made, he turned into the alleyway and sure enough, the two guys followed him.

“Alright kid, you know how this goes.” One of them said, taking a flip knife out. “Hand over your wallet.”

“And you won’t get hurt.” The other grunted.

“Wow.” Chris said. “Do you guys rehearse that line every morning in the mirror?”

They frowned, clearly not expecting this. Then flip knife punk growled.

“Last chance. Quit the damn attitude and give us the bloody wallet.” He growled.

“You guys have a whole ass script of lines you practice every day?” Chris sassed again.

“That’s it!” he charged forward and Chris dropped into a fighting stance, ready to fight-

A gust of wind blew past him. A blurr of red and blue.

The mugger stood there dumbfounded, his hand grasping nothing.

“The hell?” Chris muttered.

“You really shouldn’t run while holding sharp objects.”

All their heads snapped up and the two mugger’s eyes widened.

Hovering above them, hands on her hips, a frown of disapproval on her face as her blue eyes glared at them, the wind causing her red cape to flutter behind her to reveal the Shield ‘S’ on her chest.

Supergirl.

In the blink of an eye, Chris opened them to find the muggers groaning and unconscious on the ground.

“Man, these are cheap.” Supergirl said as she descended. She held up the flip knife and easily snapped it into two like a toothpick.

Crushing them in her fists like they were paper, she tossed them aside and gave him a dazzling smile.

Her wavy black hair framed her face and her cropped blue sleeveless zip-up jacket did nothing to hide her well-toned arms that were lithe and muscled, no doubt capable of pummeling anything. She wore ripped blue tights over long well-toned legs under a red miniskirt that gave her some modesty with red ankle boots.

“You okay?” she asked him and…..why did she look so damn familiar?

“Aren’t you a pretty long way from Metropolis, Girl Scout?” he asked.

“If you can sass like that, you’re definitely okay.” She said. “I’m just passing by.” She waved off.

“I had it handled you know.” Chris huffed.

“Gee, no need to overwhelm me with your gratitude.” She said, rolling her eyes.

“……..you’re right.” He muttered. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he turned away and sucked up his pride.

“Thanks anyways.” He said.

“No problem. Just doing my job.” She said.

Chris rolled his eyes. “Do you seriously say that all the time?” he asked.

“…say wha?” she asked.

“The Good Samaritan dialogue. I mean, doesn’t it get tedious after a while?” he said.

“Apologies. No problem citizen, just fighting for truth, justice and the American way.” She said with a mock salute, deepening her voice to sound like her father’s.

At that, Chris snorted a laugh.

“Oh my god, did you just say that?” he wheezed.

“Yeah. I did.” She said with a grin.

He shook his head. Checking the time however, his eyes widened.

“ _Merde.”_ He cursed. “Look, nice as it is to chat with you, I gotta bail. I’m late for a meet-up with a friend of mine.”

At that, Supergirl herself froze. Internally, Joan panicked as she realized that he was right.

“Oh, sorry. Best be on your way then. Don’t worry.” Walking over she easily hefted up the two muggers as though they were as light as a feather. “I’ll take care of these bullies.”

Chris nodded and jogged off.

“Thanks again for the save, girl scout!” he shouted back with a wave and gracing her with a smile before running off.

Smiling, Supergirl flew as fast as she could to drop these punks off at the nearest police station. She was on a time crunch herself.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Chris panted and finally, _finally_ he reached the damn meet-up point. God, Gotham seriously needed to redo some of their signs. Some of them are so faded with age the words were illegible scrawling.

He tried to regain his breath. Slicking his hair back, he straightened his blazer and dusted himself off. He had to compose himself.

“Chris!”

He perked up and saw a familiar bespectacled blue-eyed black haired girl running towards him.

His heart picked up when she approached. She was wearing a lace summer tank top with a red neckerchief and skinny jeans that hugged her legs, making him notice how curvaceous they were. Her hair was tied half-up and of course, she was wearing cowboy boots.

“Sorry….I’m….late.” she panted as she came closer.

“Better late than never.” He quipped.

“Had to…take a…..detour….errand…..” she panted.

“Slow your roll, country girl. I ain’t going nowhere.” He said, patting her back.

“Yeah.” She straightened. “So, lunch?” she said, regaining her upbeat rhythm.

“On me.” Chris nodded. “Come on.”

Joan blinked when she saw him offer her…his arm? Should she….should she take it?

Chris swallowed. Yeah, he was offering her his arm……….his mom and dad did ingrain it into his skull to be a gentleman. Etiquette and appropriate gestures made an impression after all.

Smiling, Joan placed her hand in his.

Chris felt his pulse quickened. He hoped she wouldn’t feel it when holding his hand.

Composing himself, he guided her towards the bistro he reserved. Along the way, they talked and….it was contenting.

“So your folks were cool with this?” he asked her.

“Mom was cool with it. Dad was a bit reluctant but she’ll straighten him out.” She said.

“Your dad sounds like the overprotective type.” He said.

Joan rolled her eyes in exasperated fondness. “You have no idea.” She said.

“…..do you like the plushie I gave you?” Chris asked lamely.

“I don’t like it.”

His heart dropped.

“I love it. I went to sleep with it. It’s…really nice to cuddle with.” She turned away sheepishly, her cheeks pink.

His heart just went sky high to the stratosphere.

“I’m glad you do……that thing costs me half a dozen tokens.” He said.

“Seven.” She corrected.

“It costs seven tokens.” He corrected pointedly, giving her a baleful sideways glance but damn it, his mouth betrayed him as it quirked upwards.

They entered the bistro and took their seats. The waitress passed them their menus to make their orders.

“Order whatever you want, the tab’s on me.” He said.

“Thanks.” She said, smiling sweetly.

Placing their orders, they settled themselves comfortably……and waited.

…………….it was awkward.

“………………..so um…..” Chris rubbed the back of his neck. “Wanna play Never Have I Ever?”

“We’re underage, you know. And my dad would ground me for life if I so much as took a sip of cheap beer.” She said.

“Okay, minus the drinking part.” He said.

“You’re on.” She grinned. “Okay……” she steepled her fingers together and leaned forward.

“Never have I ever drunk any alcohol.” She said.

“Never have I ever drunk soup.” He deadpanned.

“Do you hate soup that bad?” Joan asked, exasperated.

“Hate it.” He agreed.

“Never have I ever…….” She turned away, a blush on her cheeks spreading to the tips of her ears. “Kissed someone.”

“You kissed me.” Chris found himself blurting out.

“On the cheek, city boy. Don’t get ahead of yourself.” She said cheekily.

“Well then, never have I ever kissed a girl on the lips myself.” He admitted.

Joan felt a weight she didn’t know was there lift from her heart.

“Never have I ever….worn any fancy schmancy designer clothing.” She said.

“Would you like to wear it though?” he asked.

“Nah. Not really my style.” She said.

“Never have I ever worn anything from a thrift store.” He said.

Joan sniffed. “Typical rich city boy.” She said.

“Hey, you never know who’s worn what where.” Chris defended.

“True. Okay, never have I ever….gone sky diving.” She said. Then again, it was pretty redundant since she could already fly.

“Lame.” He yawned. “I can do better- never have I ever blown something up.”

Well…..minus his times as Amber Ruche. And to be fair, back then those were unintentional or he was just as accomplice.

“Never have I ever gone on a date with someone in Gotham.” Joan said.

“……yeah….I…guess that’s true.” He said, looking away. The words rolled off his tongue awkwardly and his body felt weird.

“……um………” Joan suddenly found the fork very interesting to fiddle. Did she….did she say something wrong? Did she cross a line?

“………..is……..” she swallowed. “Is this a date?” she asked.

Chris bit his lip. Was this a date? Did he want it to be a date? Would it really turn into a date just like that if he were to just say so? Was he doing this too fast? Were they both taking a leap too soon without thinking it through?

“I…..I know what this is.” He said. God, he hoped he could put this out right.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I know that this….right now…it’s just you and me. You and me here, in this bistro just….talking. Just enjoying one another’s company, having fun and getting to know each other better and well…..” he shrugged. “Just…being content. Happy.”

Joan smiled at him. This time, it was different. It was gentle but just as warm and caring like a summer breeze.

“I’m okay with that.” She said softly, placing her hand over his.

“The feeling’s mutual.” He said softly.

They smiled.

And at that moment, Chris realized he’d give up his family fortune to protect that smile.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“You know, before coming here, I met your hero.” Chris said as they waited for their dessert to come.

“Really? You met Supergirl in person?” Joan asked excitedly, easily putting on the typical civilian fangirl act.

“Yeah, I guess.” He said with a nonchalant shrug. “I mean, I didn’t really see much at first. Girl Scout moves fast.”

“You know her dad and Flash had a race to see who was the fastest man on Earth, right?” Joan said.

“Wait, Superman really is her dad?” Chris asked.

Joan panicked when she realized she just let crucial personal secret identity information slip.

“I mean, I guess?” she said, hoping her nerves didn’t show. “It’s a theory really but they do look kinda similar. Not to mention they have the same powers and all that.” She shrugged.

Chris hummed.

“Wait, why did she save you? What was she doing in Gotham?” then her eyes widened. “Oh my god, were you in trouble? Are you hurt?”

Yeah, she knew a thing or two about acting too. A little something her mom taught her.

“Slow your horses, country girl. Two punks tried to mug me. I was ready to handle them but then Girl Scout showed up and whooped their butts. Said she was passing by and well, after that she just picked them up and flew off.” He said.

……man, he was pretty damn chill all things considered. Then again he does deal with magical evil butterflies on a daily basis nowadays.

“How are you so chill about all this?” Joan asked aloud.

“Joan, where I come from, I deal with magical evil butterflies believe it or not and my local superheroes gain their superpowers from magical jewelry.” He deadpanned.

Right, Dahlia told her about that. But still, she’s not supposed to know that and he can’t know that she knows.

“….say wha?” she asked.

“Forget it.” Chris said.

“Oooookay.” She stood up. “’Scuse me, I need to go to the ladies for a sec.”

She turned around only for a hurrying man in a business suit to run past her.

She yelped as he bumped into her shoulder and her body twisted. The sole of her cowboy boot just had to be on a puddle of spilled water-

“Joan!” Chris cried, rushing over to help.

“I’m fine.” Joan groaned. She was in more shock and as usual, no pain but Chris didn’t need to know that either.

As she got up, it was also then she panicked as she realized her glasses were gone.

“My glasses- where’s my glasses?” she asked, scrambling to look for them.

“They must’ve fallen off when you…tripped……..” his voice trailed off as he stared at her.

Now that she wasn’t wearing her spectacles she looked familiar. She looked…..like……..

Chris blinked and rubbed his eyes.

No way….just….no way……

He stared at her and tried to picture her hair down. Replace her outfit with Supergirl’s and…..and-

“Found it!” she cried triumphantly. “Finally.”

She stood up and placed them back on her face. And just like that, that slight addition made her look like a normal girl.

Chris shook his head, as though doing so would dispel the thought he just had. There’s no way…..no way at all. Supergirl could frickin move a mountain if she wanted to, Joan was just a normal country girl!

‘That country girl’s pretty damn strong herself.’ A voice in his mind pointed out.

So?! That just meant she was healthy! Kept in shape!

‘But the similarities. How else could she have gotten over here so fast?’

“Chris?” he blinked and saw her looking at him in concern. “You okay?”

“Fine.” He said. “I uh…must’ve been something I….ate.” he said weakly.

“You feeling sick? Stomachache?” she asked.

“I…yeah, I’ll be right back.” He said.

He turned around and speed walked towards the toilets, willing himself not to look back.

Opening the toilet, he rushed over to the sink. Twisting the tap, he splashed the cold water onto his face, uncaring if some of it got onto his shirt or sleeves.

Some water got into his eyes and he did it again as though if he splashed about, it’d get the image out of his head.

It didn’t.

‘You’re overthinking.’ A voice that sounded suspiciously like a mix between Marcel and his mom said. ‘You’re jumping to conclusions. You’re nervous deep down. God knows how many girls from Metropolis has black hair and blue eyes.’

That….was true. It made sense. Otherwise how else could Superman, Supergirl, Wonder Woman and virtually every superhero who doesn’t wear a mask hide their secret identity?

‘But still, it’s possible. Like hiding a leaf in a forest.’ Another voice pointed out.

Chris groaned. This was not what he needed! He hoped that blustering businessman that bumped into Joan in the first place stepped into a wet muddy puddle with socks on.

“Stop it.” He growled, glaring at his own reflection. “Get a grip on yourself, Bourgeois.”

Gosh, Marcel’s overthinking must be rubbing off on him.

Closing his eyes, he thought back to his best friend. He thought about what he’d do.

He’d focus on the now but instead of something negative, something positive.

Okay, what was positively happening in the present was that he was spending time with Joan.

Joan, the BFF of his bro’s girlfriend. Country girl from Kansas, Smallville, currently living in Metropolis; who got him a Supergirl plushie at the arcade; who hung out with him and got past his attitude walls, made sure he wasn’t some background third wheel.

The girl he was developing a crush on.

Yeah, no point in denying that anymore.

_“Ironic, isn’t it? We had to leave Paris, the ‘City of Love’ and come all the way to Gotham, a city filled with psycho clowns and killer crocs for Marcel to find love.”_

He chuckled when he realized the position he was in.

Yet, deep down…..despite all the hiccups, he didn’t mind.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“I’m just saying that Superman can easily beat Batman in a fistfight.” Joan insisted.

“And how’s Supey gonna do that if he can’t even hit him. That guy’s like a frickin ninja.” Chris pointed out.

“He has superspeed and he can fly.” She countered.

“Batman has a bloody car and a frickin plane.” He countered.

“No, those don’t count. We’re talking pure skill here.” She added.

“Batman can still beat the Boy Scout. He’s the World’s Greatest Detective, he can probably find out his secret identity and strike him in civilian mode when he least expects it.” He huffed.

Joan snorted. Oh if only Chris knew………

“Well Superman can just use his x-ray vision to peek under the cowl.” She said triumphantly.

“Not if he lines it with lead. Hah! Science.” Chris said.

Damn it, he had a point……………….plus, the Dark Knight is literally doing that already.

“He can use his superspeed to just yank it off.” She defended.

“What if the guy glues the cowl to his face or something? Superman would just rip his face right off and he won’t even have a face to the secret identity.” He insisted.

“Who the hell glues a mask to their face?!” she asked, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

“Who the hell doesn’t glue their mask to their face?!” he shot back.

“Me!” she said.

“We’re talking superheroes here, country girl.” He huffed.

“City boy.” She said, sticking her tongue out at him.

“Sore loser.” He sniffed.

“A-asshole.” She spluttered, face red.

“With a heart of gold.” He smirked smugly.

Neither decided to mention how the other’s expression suited them rather endearingly.

“You’re not denying that~” he teased.

“You’re ridiculous! U-Utterly ridiculous!” she said, jabbing a finger at him.

“Hey! That’s my line!” he squawked though she can detect the playful tone under it.

“We’re in America, hun. It’s a free country.” She said, smirking smugly.

Then they both stared at one another evenly………..

Their lips quirked up.

Their bodies trembled.

Joan was the first to break and she started to snicker, the occasional snort mixing with her giggles.

Chris found it adorable.

“Truce?” he asked, sticking his hand out.

“Truce.” She agreed, shaking his hand in her iron vice grip again.

“You’ve got bite, country girl. I like that.” He chuckled.

“I’m not just a pretty face.” She said, dramatically flipping her hair.

Chris smiled. It’s true, she wasn’t. She was……….he didn’t how to say it but she had such an open personality, she felt so warm and real and humane compared to the other rich girls he sometimes mingle with.

Joan checked the time and her face fell.

“Sorry to cut this short but uh….I….gotta go.” She said.

“Oh.” Chris said, trying to ignore the pang of disappointment in his heart as his time with her came to an end again. “You have curfew?”

“Yeah. Like I said, dad can be pretty overprotective.” She half-heartedly joked.

“Bummer.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Hey….chin up, sunshine.” She said, gently tilting his chin up. “This ain’t farewell.”

“Aren’t we saying goodbye?” he pointed out with a raised brow.

“That’s the thing about goodbyes. They’re ‘good’ cuz you know it’s not final. You just say it out of politeness. You say it cuz you know even after you utter it, you’ll still see them again sometime.

“Farewells on the other hand have ‘f’ in them, just like the word final. Trust me, city boy, this ain’t final.” She said, blue eyes twinkling.

Chris smiled.

“I’ll hold you onto that, country girl.” He said.

They walked out, walking side by side in companionable silence. Chris’s fingers twitched as he stared at her hand. It would be easy to just…reach out and hold it.

And he did.

He felt the pads of his fingers press against hers before slowly, his fingers intertwined with hers.

She gently squeezed back.

Soon, they had to depart ways and her fingers untangled from his.

“I had a great time, Chris.” She said softly. “I really enjoyed this.”

“So did I.” he said sincerely.

Then he cleared his throat, and looked her straight in the eye, craning his neck slightly to look upwards.

“Remember when you asked me earlier if…this was a date?” he asked.

“Yeah?” she asked uncertainly.

“I know we just met but….do you want to go there?” he asked. “Do you….do you want to keep doing this so we can go that far?”

Joan slowly blinked, her mind processing this.

“Are you asking me out?” she asked.

“Do you want me to?” he asked, his nerves were going erratic and buzzing as wildly as a hive of bees.

Joan just stood there and Chris felt the shame begin to drizzle before it gradually turned into a steady downpour as the silence stretched between them and-

“Yes.”

His head shot up and he saw Joan smiling widely, ear to ear as bright as the sun as her blue eye twinkled like diamonds.

“I would like that very much.” She said.

“Feeling’s mutual, country girl.” He said gently.

Then he yelped as she wrapped her arms around him and lifted him off the ground, twirling him in circles.

“This definitely ain’t the last you’ve seen of me!” she said with a grin, setting him down.

She dusted him off, straightening his blazer and patted him on the shoulders, smiling warmly at him.

“Thanks again for the great time, Chris.” She said.

“Thank you for the great company.” He said, smiling at her earnestly, soft and sincere in goodbye.

“Holler if you need me!” she said before running off while waving him goodbye.

Chris smiled and waved back. Turning around, he walked back towards the hotel with a skip in his step.

Paris? Who needs that anymore?

The ‘City of Lights and Love’ was getting overrated anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain is the title of a country song I searched up and found on Google. Figured it'd suit them since they both have blue eyes.  
> If you guys are wondering how and why Chris is having suspicions so soon compared to Marcel, I would like to point out a few things.  
> One, unlike Robin, Supergirl operates in broad daylight. Robin operates in the night under the cover of shadows and darkness so it's harder to make out her features. Two, Supergirl doesn't wear a mask or anything to conceal her face whereas Robin has a mask and hood. Three, considering Chris met Supergirl and then Joan in such a short time gap, he's bound to remember the picture clearer.


	17. You Do Not (and Never Did) Have Nine Lives!; You Are Not (and Never Will Be) Special

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrianne is finally told to take a good long look in the mirror; Lila makes the biggest enemy.......and the biggest mistake of her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for some Lila salt. 😈😈😈 Gonna add lots of salt onto the sausages as they sizzle and burn in the fire.

“Maaaaaaarceeeeeel.”

Marcel groaned, pulling his pillow over his head and turning around. “Five more minutes, Tikki.” He mumbled.

“Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarceeeeeeeeeeeeel.”

“Macaroons are in th’ fridge.” He grumbled, clumsily waving his hand in an attempt to smack the kwami away.

“MARCEL!”

A prick of pain erupted on his toe. A Chinese curse spat out as he jolted awake, sitting straight up in his bed, his bedhead hair nearly defying gravity as though he’d been electrocuted.

“I’m sorry, I’m clumsy!” he yelped.

The only reply he got was cackling laughter from a very familiar kwami that was definitely not Tikki.

“Ahahahaaa! You should’ve seen how high you jumped!” Plagg chortled.

Marcel glared at the Black Cat kwami but his annoyance quickly faded when Plagg’s presence sunk in.

“Wait, what are you doing here?!” he asked.

“Plagg!” Tikki scolded, whizzing over. “There you are! Darn it, I told you to wait until Marcel woke up!” she scolded.

“He was taking too long, sugar cube. I just helped speed up the process.” Plagg waved off before turning serious. “We need to talk.”

“Then talk.” Marcel said, pushing the blanket aside and sitting straighter, crossing his legs.

“It’s about Adrianne she…..she uh….kinda did something stupid yesterday…….twice.” Plagg said sheepishly.

“Plagg, what did she do?” Marcel asked, his stomach twisting into knots of panic.

“Nothing overkill, I swear! She uh…kinda got jealous and paranoid and all when she saw you go off with your girlfriend so she transformed and followed you.” Plagg explained.

“She WHAT?!” Marcel exploded, face red from indignation.

“She didn’t get too far though. Let’s just say she met a little hiccup that deterred her from going further.” Plagg tried to reassure.

“……………….that was her last night, wasn’t it?” he groaned. “By the window.”

“Yeah.” Plagg admitted, his whiskers drooping.

“And?” he asked.

“She changed her mind after your guardian angel did some persuading.” Plagg explained.

“Guardian angel?” Marcel echoed, confused.

Plagg sighed and suddenly, the usually mischievous kwami looked exhausted.

“I’m sorry, Cookie. I’ve been trying my best to straighten the kitten out but she’s starting to go too far. She’s rarely listening to me anymore and….and I don’t know if it’s the side effects or her own thick-headed skull but she’s taking her abilities, heck, her life for granted.

“She doesn’t have nine lives, Marcel. And one of these days, she’s going to make a decision that’ll end the one life she has. If circumstances aren’t Miraculous Cure related then….well…….”

The heavy harsh silence carried the words of horrifying truth.

“You need to talk to her. You’re the only one who has a chance of getting it through her head.” Then Plagg’s tone softened. “But you don’t have to if you can’t. I know your friendship’s rocky enough as it is.”

Marcel just released a weary sigh and ran a hand through his hair, untangling the knots in it. He closed his eyes, trying to fight off the headache, trying to ignore the tears welling up behind his eyes because goddamn it, what will it take for her to finally realize this wasn’t a game and that she doesn’t and never will have nine lives?!

“Marcel?” Tikki asked slowly.

Marcel took a deep shuddering breath, burying his face into his hands, struggling to keep the contents of his stomach inside him.

No, no, don’t think that. Don’t go there. Think of other things. Pastry recipes, commissions, designs, lyrics of Jagged Stone songs, the ingredients needed for a potion, healing methods and spells Master Fu taught him-

Dahlia.

Think of Dahlia.

He thought of her calming reassuring presence; her assertive quiet confidence; her stellar intellect and quick-witted tongue; her patience and support; her vibrant green eyes; her soft black hair; her firm voice to anchor him.

“I’m okay.” He said finally. “I-I’m fine now. Sorry, I just needed a moment.”

“Kid, please, you’ve already got enough on your plate. You’re not obligated to do this for me.” Plagg pleaded.

“No.” Marcel said firmly. “This can’t go on anymore Plagg. Someone has to get it through her head that she’s not invincible and I don’t plan on letting an akuma or sentimonster do the talking.”

With that said, he sprung out of bed and went to wash up, mentally preparing himself for what’s to come, a man on a mission.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Adrianne blinked in surprise as her phone vibrated on the sink. Turning it on, she was pleasantly surprised to see Marcel finally texting her.

[Chat name: Paw-some Pair]

PrincePastry: Come to my room after breakfast.

PrincePastry: We need to talk.

Her spirits lifted at the message. Marcel wanted to talk; _he_ wanted to talk _to her_.

Hope surged through her. Maybe he’s finally seen reason. Maybe he’s finally going to own up to it all and apologize, then they can all reconcile and go back to the way they were before. All of them can be happy again.

She went to grab breakfast with a bounce in her step. Heck, she even managed to find it in herself to avoid Lila and slip past Alya.

Stomach satisfied, she walked towards Marcel’s room. Raising a hand, she knocked his door.

“Knock knock.” She joked.

The door opened and Marcel stood there.

“You’re supposed to say who’s there, y’know.” She teased.

“Come in.” Marcel said.

Instantly, the joking smile on her face dropped at his stern tone and his stoic face. But despite the control, she can practically see the storm brewing in his bluebell eyes, the way his jaw was clenched tighter than usual, the slight furrow in his brows.

Swallowing her nerves, she stepped inside.

Marcel stood before her, shoulders squared, arms crossed over his chest and his brows furrowed deeper now. It’s clear that he’s just barely reining in his emotions.

“Is everything okay, Prince?” she asked carefully.

“Hm, I don’t know Adrianne. Why wouldn’t it be okay?” he asked sarcastically. “Oh that’s right, maybe it’s because a certain kitty cat was stalking me yesterday when I was with my girlfriend!” he snapped.

“Wha-how did you-” her face paled.

“Why, Adrianne? Just…..” he turned away, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why?” he asked, voice thick with hurt. “How could you do that to me, Adrianne?! Stalking me? Spying on me? What the hell happened to respecting my personal space, my privacy in life?!”

“I was doing it for you own good!” she defended.

“Well fat lotta good you did!” he said with bitter sarcasm that stabbed her heart.

“Oh please, as if you’re one to talk. I mean, back in _college_ you had all those pictures of me-”

“Do not! Try to change the subject, much less pin me as the bad guy. You already do enough of that on a daily basis.” Marcel growled, instantly silencing her.

“This isn’t just an invasion of privacy and you breaking my trust, _again_ but it’s also the fact that you _abused_ your miraculous, _again!”_

“How is protecting a civilian an abuse of power?!” she asked, getting frustrated. She wanted to protect him, she cared for him! Why couldn’t he see that?

“I don’t. Need. Your. Protection!” Marcel snapped, his voice rising with each word, his patience thinning. “I am sick and tired of this Adrianne; sick and tired of your self-righteousness; sick and tired of your ignorance and laziness; sick and tired of your neglect; sick and tired of your recklessness and disregard for consequences and sick and tired of your irresponsibility!

“Is all this a goddamn game to you? You think just because you wield a miraculous, you’re some kind of ‘chosen one’?! You think you’re invincible?! NO! You’re still human, you breathe, you eat, you bleed, your bones break and you _die._ You think I enjoy that?! You think I enjoy watching you run head-first into battle with zero regard for your life and seeing you get killed in cold blood?! You think I enjoy watching you die again and again even if Miraculous Cure brings you back?!”

By the end of it all, Marcel was panting, his chest heaving up and down, his clenched fists trembling as it all finally spilled out. All the years of pent up emotions poured out, slamming into Adrianne full force and swallowing her whole.

Adrianne’s face was paler than a sheet of paper as the words from Marcel’s outburst sunk in.

“Watching me…..die?” she gasped, suddenly struggling to breathe. It felt like cotton was being stuffed into her ears, her head felt light and her knees were jello.

“Yes, Adrianne, you die.” He whispered hoarsely, looking ready to cry himself. “You don’t remember it like everyone else but sometimes, you die. Either the akuma kills you or you’re buried under rubble or…or……” he shook his head, unable to continue.

“It’s true kitten.” Plagg said, voice soft but grim. “You think you were knocked out or under mind control but that’s not always the case. You die. You’re lucky you don’t stay dead long otherwise Miraculous Cure wouldn’t even work without any lasting effects.”

“It’s not just you, Adrianne. Many others die. Civilians die. Take Syren for example. How many people managed to actually make it to higher ground? What do you think happened to everyone else you didn’t see on rooftops?” Tikki chimed in.

“No…..” Adrianne whispered, shaking her head. “No, it…it can’t be, no way, there’s akuma shelters and-and-”

“What about three years ago? What about _before_ the akuma shelters were built?” Marcel pointed out.

Adrianne began to hyperventilate, her pupils dilating and her body trembling as the dark reality set in. Thinking fast, Marcel grabbed a bucket he prepared beforehand and passed it to Adrianne just as the blonde teen model emptied her stomach.

She stayed crouched down, clutching the bucket in a bone-white grip, her body racking with her hurls. Marcel gently patted her back and helped hold her long blonde hair back away from her bile.

He gently thumped her back as she dry-heaved before finally, finally she managed to more or less regain control.

“I-I didn’t know, I-” she choked.

“You do now.” Marcel said.

“I’m sorry.” She choked out, barely holding back her tears. “I’m sorry I-”

“Save your breath, Adrianne.” Marcel said. His voice was soft but devoid of sympathy, his eyes hardened. “I don’t want apologies, I want _action_. Start thinking about the consequences of your actions, start looking at situations from a different perspective, start taking responsibility and do your duties as a superhero _seriously_.

“I can’t let you keep doing this, Adrianne. What you’re doing isn’t just hurting yourself, it’s hurting others. If you don’t wake up and accept reality, someone’s going to slap it into you and I speak for both of us when I say you don’t want that to happen.” He said sternly.

“What’ll you do?” she asked.

“It’s not what I will do, it’s what Red Beetle will do.” He put a hand up to stall her. “You may be my friend, Adrianne but I can and will tell Red Beetle about your behaviour unless you show improvement and dedication to your responsibilities.” Then his face softened.

“I don’t want to do it anymore than you but unlike you, I’m willing to burn a few bridges to build a stronger fortress.” He said, his tone hardening.

“So that’s it? So you’re saying Paris matters more than me?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“I don’t know. Is your fantasy more important than the lives of civilians who’ve died because you’ve neglected your duties as a hero?” he asked coldly.

She flinched as though physically struck.

“Here’s some advice; stop abusing your miraculous. Take a good long look at yourself, think hard on your actions and decisions these past two years and ask yourself; are you really worthy of wearing that ring?” he asked.

Adrianne bit her trembling lip, trying not to hold back her tears. Her stomach and what little contents were left churned.

“You have to stop this, Adrianne. You’ve transformed not once but three times already. One time you did it in broad bloody daylight! You really wanna grab a giant neon sign to announce to Hawkmoth that ‘Hey, I’m not protecting Paris cuz I’m on vacation in Gotham which is halfway across the globe’?” he went on.

“No.” she whispered quietly.

“This is your last warning, Adrianne. Don’t make me do or say anything that I’ll regret.” Marcel said.

Then he nodded towards the door.

“I’ve said my piece.” He said softly.

“So you have.” Adrianne said, voice trembling as she barely held herself together. “I thought….” She choked. “I thought we were friends.”

“Hate to break it to you but unlike you, I’m not afraid to call my friends out on their mistakes.” He said coldly.

She harshly shoved past him as she ducked her head and ran out of his room, his door slamming behind her as she went.

Marcel closed his eyes, waiting for the resounding echo of the slam to ring away before walking over to his bed. He slumped down, lying there and staring at the ceiling as he tried to gather himself together after that hurricane of emotions.

He sighed and laid a forearm over his eyes.

“You did the right thing.” Tikki said reassuringly.

“Think I was too hard on her?” he asked.

“Honestly, Marcel? All things considered, that was just a slap on the wrist.” Tikki said morosely.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Adrianne flung herself onto her bed, uncaring if her shoes were still on. She grabbed the nearest pillow, buried her face inside it, took a deep breath and wailed.

She screamed and wailed before it finally broke down into sobs.

Plagg watched apathetically, munching on his cheese as he allowed his owner to vent it all out. He shook his head.

Really, Cookie went easy on the kitten all things considered.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” Adrianne spat, sniffling somewhat. “You snitched on me.”

“Or maybe Marcel’s just sharper than you think.” Plagg said, stuffing another wedge of cheese into his mouth.

“Don’t play coy with me!” she snapped.

At that, Plagg’s face darkened and he hovered close to her face, baring his fangs as his toxic green eyes glared at her menacingly.

“Watch your tone, child.” He growled voice guttural, _beastly_ and _dangerous_. “When will you learn to stop pinning the blame on others and owning up to your faults? Or was Marcel not clear enough earlier? Should I graciously invite him down here to repeat them?”

Adrianne winced at the thought of receiving another scathing scolding from Marcel.

“He’s doing this because he’s your friend, a much better friend than you’ve been to him for the past three years. If he doesn’t get this through your head now, one day, you’re going to _lose_ your head and _never_ get it back.” Plagg snarled, sick and tired with the attitude of his petulant owner.

“Do what he said, kitten. Take a good long look at the mirror.” He said before turning his back on her to turn his focus back on his cheese which was definitely worth more of his time and attention compared to teenage drama.

Adrianne sat there, staring at nothing as she mulled over Marcel and Plagg’s words.

_“Yes, Adrianne, you die. You don’t remember it like everyone else but sometimes, you die. Either the akuma kills you or you’re buried under rubble or…or……”_

No. That couldn’t be true. Her father…her father cared for her, even when both of them are in their alter egos. He cares for her safety, no way would he make an akuma that would go that far.

He loved her. He cared for her, he was overprotective. He wouldn’t…he couldn’t…he’d never…..he….he…..

She renounced Plagg, ignoring his protest. Holding her phone in her trembling grip, she tried to regain her composure as she shakily dialled her father’s number.

“Father? We need to talk…..”

* * *

Lila walked through the streets of Gotham, her nose scrunching in disgust as the wind carried the putrid smells from the sewers and the drafty wet smell of moisture in the air. She sneered at all the street rats and homeless pathetically skittering like rats in the alleyways and corners.

She huffed, pulling her scarf tighter around her. Why her class was so excited to come here, she’ll never know. The only thing interesting about this place was some crazy man who runs on rooftops in the middle of the night dressed as a flying rodent and his other sidekicks in tights.

She angrily kicked a can that was in her way. God, this was such a hassle. But she had to keep up appearances. She was a star actress after all, the world was her stage and the sheep known as her classmates and ‘friends’ were her audience and fans.

Right now she was going to a café to ‘hang out’ with her ‘bestie’ Dahlia Wayne.

……..okay, she’ll admit that she didn’t really know how Dahlia even looked like. The youngest and only biological daughter of the Wayne family wasn’t one for pictures. Other than the few online from high-class social events which usually consisted of the whole family in groups was the only source.

Most of the time, those pictures were as few as possible. Not once has anyone caught a picture of Dahlia Wayne on her own up close. Most had a vague outline of what she looked like but not specific features.

But from what she’s gathered, she has black hair and green eyes………….wait a sec……didn’t that Gothamite girl also have…….

Lila scoffed. Yeah right. As if Marcel was actually dating her.

She frowned. So far, she hasn’t made any progress with the stubborn French-Asian boy and it was grating her patience. To add salt to the wound, the ‘present’ her ‘boss’ gave her was destroyed thanks to those pompous Rogues.

God, she really hated Gotham. If it were up to her, she’d just destroy the whole city and put it out of its misery.

Entering a café, she paused when she saw a head of black hair sitting by the window. Her eyes narrowed, glaring hatefully at the girl, a snarl building up in her throat.

Right there, sitting by a table near the window was Marcel’s ‘girlfriend’. She wore a trench coat over a turtleneck with high-waisted jeans and ankle boots.

Her fists trembled, envy burning through her as she eyed the high-quality designer clothing that damn witch wore. She should be the one wearing clothes like those, not that skank!

Unbeknownst to her, her venomous glare didn’t go unnoticed by her target. With her horrendous hairstyle and atrocious orange clothing, she was easy to spot. Dahlia was annoyed. Now she had to deal with a leech stuck on her sole. Great.

Sipping the last of her tea, she placed an extra tip and left the café. Predictably, the sausage-haired girl followed her.

She turned into an alleyway, Lila followed.

The Italian girl paused and did a double-take when she saw no one when she came into view. Swallowing her and steeling her nerves, she warily walked inside.

“Pathetic.” A voice growled.

She jumped. Whipping around, her eyes widened when she saw the Gothamite girl standing behind her. How the hell did she get there- she didn’t even hear her footsteps!

The girl just shook her head, looking at her in pity and disgust. That look pissed her off- who did this girl think she was?!

“You can’t even do something wrong right. Then again, it’s not all that surprising. Disappointing but not surprising at this point.” The girl said with a shrug, uncaring.

“You got a lot of nerve to stalk me like this.” Lila growled.

“Me stalking you? Why would I waste my time on something as irrelevant as you?” she snorted.

“You better watch your tone, you _putanna_. We’re in Gotham and I’ve got connections you don’t want to cross.” Lila threatened.

“Like?” she asked, raising her brow as her lips quirked up as though she was in on some secret joke.

“Dahlia Wayne.” Lila boasted, flipping her hair. “The daughter of the Prince of Gotham himself. We’re best friends so I’d watch my back if I were you.”

“You have connections you say?” the girl mused.

“More than you can dream of.” Lila preened.

“I’ve got more.” She said, shrugging as though they were simply discussing the weather.

“I have her on speed dial, I can call her and her father here right now to have their lawyers sue you!” Lila snapped, her patience waning thin as the girl refused to budge.

“On what charges? Assuming you have a decent braincell in that hot-air balloon you call your skull with enough intellect to understand law.” She drawled.

“How dare you, my mother’s an Italian diplomat!” Lila shrieked.

“She must’ve made the biggest mistake of her life giving birth to you.” She sneered, eyeing Lila as though she was dirt under her shoe.

Lila’s anger reached boiling point as this wretched rude disrespectful Gothamite b!tch snapped the last of her nerves.

 _“Fotutta putanna!”_ Lila screeched, rearing her hand back and swinging it out to slap this girl and put her in her place-

Her wrist was caught in a vice-like grip. Faster than her eye could follow, the girl moved as fluid as water and as swift as lightning, twisting her hand behind her back and pinning it there.

Lila hissed in pain when her joints protested. She struggled and squirmed but that just jostled her joints, making them protest painfully.

 _“Bello provare, patetico infedele.”_ She hissed into her ear in fluent Italian.

Then she shoved her away so hard, she stumbled and nearly fell face first onto the dirty floor. Lila cradled her wrist to her chest, her face red either with humiliation or anger, Dahlia didn’t know and frankly didn’t care.

She wiped her hand against her pants with a disgusted grimace as though she touched something filthy. Then again, considering who it was…..yeah, she wsa definitely gonna wash her hand after this.

“You’ll pay for this! You assaulted me!” Lila hissed.

Dahlia raised a brow. “You raised your hand at me first, that’s classified as self-defence which is totally legal by the way. Second, what proof do you have other than your crocodile tears and lies? Where are the witnesses?” she challenged.

Lila gritted her teeth, glaring at the girl, wishing she could disintegrate her with her glare alone. Oh if only she still had those cuff bracelets, this b!tch would be lying on her feet, begging for mercy.

The girl walked past her barely sparing her a glance as though she wasn’t even there.

“Hey! We’re not finished yet!” Lila snarled, reaching out-

Only for the girl to twirl around and smack her hand away so hard, her wrist felt ready to snap off.

“Don’t touch me you walking parasite.” The girl hissed.

“I said, we’re not finished yet!” Lila repeated, stomping her foot down to emphasize her point.

“Unlike you, I have productive things to do in my accomplished life other than spew garbage and increase pollution.” The girl huffed with an eye roll.

“You’re lucky I don’t know your name but I never forget a face.” Lila said, eyes narrowing and a threat evidently underlying her words.

“Unfortunately, I know both of yours and I can’t forget it either. Waste of space in my memory if you ask me.” Dahlia sniffed.

“Just you wait, I’ll make you rue the day you ever chose to stick your nose into my empire. You may think you’re a noble but I’m a queen.” Lila said, raising her chin up high.

The girl just chuckled condescendingly as though she was just told the biggest joke in the universe.

“Really now?” she said, stepping forward. Lila found herself subconsciously taking a step back. The girl’s green eyes were gleaming like a blade, her stance like a deadly panther.

“Empires fall, your highness. You may be a queen but I’m a warrior.” She leaned forward and Lila leaned back with a flinch as the girl’s face hovered an inch away from hers.

“And warriors bow to _no one_ , much less a pathetic insufferable cowardly dishonourable sorry excuse for a human being like you. You’re _nothing._ You’re _lower_ than nothing and always will be. You think you’re a queen when you’re not even a _pheasant_. You’re just a delusional waste of space breathing the same air as the rest of society and polluting it. You’re trash, simple as that. Trash that deserves nothing less than to be disposed of. Always have been and always will be.”

Then she stood back up and straightened her coat, becoming the very picture of calm, composed and disinterested.

Without another word or so much of a glance, she turned around and walked out of the alleyway, leaving the harlot behind her.

Dahlia clucked her tongue in annoyance, flipping her hair over her shoulder. All she wanted was tea at a peaceful café, was that too much to ask for?

Then again, she couldn’t deny the hum of vindictive satisfaction resonating within her soothed the annoyance. That sausage-haired girl truly was a fool.

Of course, she knew the infidel wouldn’t give up. She was too prideful and arrogant to do so but that’s fine. All the more fun for Dahlia which equals to all the more satisfaction once her plan clicks together like a neat perfect jigsaw puzzle.

That girl wanted war? Fine. Dahlia will throw everything she’s got at that b!tch until it looks as though hell itself is raining down upon her repulsive existence.

She made an enemy of Dahlia Wayne.

And if there’s anything anyone knew about a Wayne?

 _No one_ antagonizes a Wayne without consequences.

Flipping her phone out, she deftly dialled a number.

“Hello, Maya. I need to call in a favour that I guarantee will be worthy your attention…..….”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maya is a canon character from DC. Her ops moniker is Nobody.  
> Oh yeah, and Dahlia isn't just out for blood, she's out for pain and suffering.....I'd be lying if I said I felt even the tiniest bit sorry for Lie-la. ;p


	18. Uncovering (Deeper) Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The investigation continues......and Dahlia accidentally throws her boyfriends to a pack of wolves.  
> Oh and Alfred is a BAMF.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Mentions of suicide up ahead. Read at your own risk.

Red Beetle’s side felt like it was on fire. Every breath he heaved felt as though a million firecrackers were going off inside his ribcage. The others weren’t in any better shape.

Suzaku’s shoulder was dislocated, her sword clutched limply in her other hand; Viperion was walking with a heavy limp, trying to support most of his weight onto his left foot and Amber Ruche had a nasty gash on his head, one of his lenses shattered.

Ignoring the pain, he managed to find it in himself to cast the Miraculous Cure. He closed his eyes and felt the familiar magic embrace him, healing his wounds and cleaning away the bloodstains as though he was never injured in the first place.

He watched apathetically as the cure washed over the streets of Paris.

As it washed over the bodies of innocents who were caught in the fire.

Amber Ruche just slumped down onto the ground on the spot.

“Fu$k this, we’re supposed to be on bloody vacation right now.” He groaned.

“That was definitely one of the tougher ones.” Viperion said, tapping his foot against the ground, not a single ache throbbing.

“And it certainly won’t be the last.” Suzaku said grimly. “Do you know when help is coming?” she asked Red Beetle.

“Soon.” He reassured them. “We just have to hold out a little while longer.”

They could do this, they had to.

Just a little while longer and help will arrive.

Just a little while longer…until they can finally end this nightmare.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Marcel groaned and collapsed face-first onto his bed. Although the sun had been up and shining in Paris, due to time zones, it was still night time in Gotham.

It was 2: 35 AM in the morning to be precise.

He sighed, mentally steeling himself for what was bound to come. No doubt this was the first of many other continuous attacks to come which means consistent nights in which he went on without sufficient amount of sleep.

He vaguely recalled that tomorrow- well, technically today actually, Mme. Bustier had planned some kind of ‘class bonding’ activity. Basically they were gonna do yoga and aerobics in Gotham Park.

Yeah, _no_. His body was so exhausted he doubts he could stretch much less keep up with the pace of aerobics.

Screw it, he’ll just call in and say he’s sick or something. Chris would probably do the same.

Right now? Sleep. He was going to get some goddamn sleep.

Forcing his tired body to get up, he stumbled over towards the kitchenette and prepared some hot water. Tikki- the sweet blessing of support- whizzed into his luggage to grab what he needed while Kaalki grabbed a mug and teaspoon.

“Thanks guys.” Marcel muttered.

Tikki handed him a small tea packet and a herb capsule. Stirring the tea, he took a long slow drink, letting the warm liquid flow down his throat and settle in his stomach.

Satisfied, he popped the capsule into his mouth, his taste buds long since used to whatever weird taste it might carry, and swallowed it.

Downing the last of his tea, he felt his eyelids grow heavy as the ‘potion’ took effect. His mind was clear, free from worries but very, _very_ lethargic.

He felt his body land on his bed just as the potion’s effects fully kicked in.

He slept like the dead.

* * *

Nightwing winced as Robin’s foot connected with the poor guy’s jaw before another slammed into his cheek. Yup, definitely a dislocated jaw and fractured cheekbone.

After the spat she and Supergirl had with Chat Noir, the Bat Family decided that true to Robin’s words they had to look out for Marcel. They did it for a good few number of valid reasons.

Reason one- he was a crucial source of information. He was more than a witness or another civilian standby, he was a piece of the jigsaw puzzle they needed to complete in order to bring down Hawkmoth’s jenga tower.

Reason two- Chat Noir was unpredictable and dangerous. The fact that she’s shown her hand not once, not twice but _thrice_ now already raises a lot of red flags. Didn’t help that she tried to disintegrate Joan.

Reason three- Robin gave her word.

And reason three was pretty prominent in the present.

Even if the rest of them didn’t chip in, they all knew Robin wouldn’t hesitate to go on a one-girl mission to protect Marcel with her own two hands. The girl would stay up all night, 24/7 every day, 7 days a week to keep an eagle eye’s surveillance and ensure her boyfriend’s safety.

Even after they agreed to systematically take watch, Robin pretty much tried to fill in as many slots as possible, pulling out all the stops in terms of ‘reasons’ which were really excuses.

Needless to say, Batman got worried. Yeah, protectiveness is a good motivator and all but all of them would be lying if they said they weren’t worried that Robin’s emotions might get the better of her, clouding her judgment and causing her to make an error.

And errors lead to consequences. Consequences lead to potential hurt. Potential hurt led to fatal ends.

So…..yeah.

To say she was pissed was an understatement. But Batman had put his foot down and told her that tonight, she would go on standard patrol to clear her head.

And of course, being the bleeding heart big brother he was, he opened his big mouth and said he’d go on patrol with her.

Deciding she’s released enough steam on the same targets, Nightwing stepped in. She’s already caused enough injuries to put these guys in the hospital, wrapped up like a mummy for weeks. This has gone far enough.

“Hey, hey, hey!” he said, grabbing her hand. “Time out.”

She glared at him but he didn’t back down.

“Robin, that’s enough.” He said sternly, a tone he rarely ever uses even as Nightwing.

“…..tt.” she clicked, wrenching her hand out of his grip.

Their comms went off. Nightwing thanked whatever deity gave them such good timing intervention.

“Batgirl here.” They heard the voice with the undertone of a yawn.

“Anything to report?” Nightwing asked.

“Just saw him wake up. He went to grab some kinda drink then practically passed out. He’s sleeping like the dead right now.” Batgirl reported.

Robin’s head snapped up, her body tensing and oh crap, Nightwing can see the gears turning in her head.

“What if the drink was spiked?” she rationalized in assassin fashion.

“What if he was just really tired?” Nightwing offered logically.

“Maybe he has sleeping problems too. For all we know, he could’ve just have taken his medication.” Batgirl supplied rationally.

Robin frowned, evidently unconvinced. Turning around, she wordlessly took her grappler out.

“Where are you going?” Nightwing asked.

“Batgirl’s shift is over. It’s _my_ turn now.” Robin said. She glared at him, daring him to stop her.

Nightwing put his hands up in surrender, knowing full well he shouldn’t get in her way. Good.

She landed on the rooftop, senses alert, eyes sharply gazing every shadow. A gust blew past, fluttering her cape. Moments like these, she’s glad she has a hood pulled over her head.

Taking out her binoculars, she zoomed in and was relieved to see that true to Batgirl’s earlier report, Marcel was in fact soundly asleep on his bed. Judging by his position, he went unconscious long before he could properly tuck himself in.

She bit her lip, wishing she could just slip inside and do just that. She shook her head, instantly dispelling such thoughts from her mind.

No, she was here to protect him. As a hero, friend, girlfriend, confidant and guardian. She _cannot_ fail. 

Pulling up her wrist computer, she easily hacked into the hotel’s security system and gained access to the live feed. Nothing out of the ordinary-

Wait.

Her eyes narrowed as one of the doors slowly opened and an ombre-haired girl stepped out.

Alya Césaire, creator of the LadyBlog.

Robin scoffed, rolling her eyes at the mere thought of that pathetic tabloid. She frowned, wondering what trouble this foolish blind sheep planned on stirring.

Alarm bells went off when she realized Alya was going upstairs, heading towards Marcel’s room. The girl was smart enough to wear a hoodie in an attempt to hide her face but Robin wasn’t fooled.

Alya crouched down in front of Marcel’s door, taking out a card-

Shit.

_Shit._

She fired her grappler just as the door unlocked itself.

Alya slowly nudged it open and peeked inside.

Nothing. Not a peep.

Slipping inside, she shut the door and allowed her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Sure enough, she could make out Marcel’s form, lying down out cold.

She smirked. The boy was such a heavy sleeper. Doing this would be like stealing candy from a baby.

Tiptoeing around, she went over to the desk and found his sketchbook lying right there in the open. Her smirk grew. This was too easy.

Grabbing the sketchbook, she walked over towards his luggage. If luck was on her side, it’d no doubt be open-

She released a cry of surprise as someone tackled her from behind and shoved her face down into the ground. She hissed as her arm was painfully locked behind her.

“What. Are. You. Doing. Here?” a voice growled near her ear, a hand wrapped around the back of her neck.

She tensed and slowly, slowly turned around-

Only to see white lenses belonging to a green domino mask glaring at her.

“Wha-get off me, I’m not a burglar, I swear!” Alya yelped, squirming in an attempt to escape the lock but Robin’s grip was as tight as a python.

“Shut up, you thief.” Robin snarled. “I saw you breaking into his room and I saw you take his sketchbook.”

“So? It’s just a stupid-” a cry of pain cut her off as Robin twisted her arm further, her joints protesting.

There was a groan, causing them both to freeze.

Whipping her head around, she watched as Marcel slowly woke up. He sounded groggy, his movements sluggish. If anything, he seemed totally unaware of the dilemma he was in the middle of.

“Whazz goin’ on?” he mumbled.

“Marcel.” Robin said with a small nod in greeting as though this was totally normal.

At that, his head snapped up and his bluebell eyes widened to comically big size.

“Robin?!” he stuttered.

Stumbling over, he hit the light switch. Blinking the spots from his eyes, he took in the scene before him.

Robin was there.

She was pinning Alya down.

Alya who was trapped suspiciously close to where his sketchbook was lying on the ground-

Wait……………what the hell?!

“What the hell are you two doing in my room at 3 AM in the morning?!” he snapped.

“Ask her.” Robin said, nodding towards Alya. “She broke into your room and tried to steal your personal possessions.”

“I wasn’t going to steal them! As if I’d want any of that cheap junk of his. It was just a harmless prank to get back at the jerk.” Alya growled.

“For what?” they both asked.

“Don’t play dumb, you bully! You think I didn’t notice? You think I didn’t see Adrianne cry cuz of you.” Alya hissed accusatory.

“Wha-I-I-she-” Marcel…didn’t know what to say.

He tried to ignore the voice in the corner of his mind that pointed out he did technically make Adrianne cry. Even if it was for a valid reason, the fact remained that _he_ was the one who made her cry.

“You’re not even trying to deny it.” Alya said with a smug sneer.

“You’re not denying the fact that you’re committing a juvenile act either.” Robin snapped. “I wonder how your viewers on your precious blog will feel if they find out about the creator’s unsavoury deeds.”

“How do you know about that?” Alya spluttered.

“I’m Robin.” She deadpanned.

Was this what father felt like when he always said ‘I’m Batman’?

“It’s too early for this $hit.” Marcel groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose while trying to fight off the headache. He took a goddamn potion, damn it he’s not supposed to be awake while it’s still in his system.

“Wait, why are _you_ here?” he asked Robin directly.

“Doing my job. Putting criminals in their place.” She replied evenly.

“I’m not a criminal!” Alya snapped.

“And I don’t care.” Robin shot back.

“This is assault! You’re harming an innocent civilian! I’ll call the cops!” Alya threatened.

“Go ahead. Save us the trouble and turn yourself in too.” Robin sniffed. Even if she kept her end of the threat, Robin doubts the commissioner will let it slide.

“Forget it.” Marcel sighed, looking very tired and very done with all this. His expression was uncannily similar to Drake’s now when he’s just woke up without his mandatory morning coffee.

“Just leave, Alya.” He said.

Said girl stared at him, eyes wide and jaw dropped, clearly not expecting this. Then her face hardened and she glared him, mouth opening to continue her verbal assault.

“You heard him.” Robin said, hauling her up and kicking her out with vindictive vigour. “Leave and if I see your face again, I’ll personally see to it that you don’t have one after I’m through with you.”

Not wanting to risk Robin’s wrath, Alya scampered off.

“……….is this the part where I realize this is all just a dream?” Marcel asked dryly, placing his face in his hand, looking utterly done with every piece of crap the universe keeps handing him.

“I wish.” Robin said.

“Thanks.” He said anyways. “And thanks again for last night too.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She stiffly said.

“It’s okay, I know what Chat did.” Marcel said. “I also know I’ve got a guardian angel watching my back.” He winked at her.

She blushed and looked away.

“Guilty as charged.” She admitted.

“So now you’ve assigned yourself my personal bodyguard?” he asked.

“Not just me, the whole family. It’s clear that Chat Noir is dangerous, unpredictable and an active threat. Precautions must be taken.” She said professionally.

At that, Marcel’s face dropped into one of worry.

“You’re not going to hurt her, are you?” he asked.

“Why are you so concerned for her? Hasn’t she been harassing you?” Robin asked, internally bristling over the fact that Marcel was actually defending that insufferable backstabbing blonde

“…..guess you can say that’s one of my flaws.” He said, shrugging. “I guess…even now I can’t help but see her as a friend, even after the $hit show that went down this morning.” He chuckled bitterly, devoid of humour.

“…..do you…want to talk about it?” Robin asked carefully.

Marcel shrugged. Maybe it was the potion but fu$k it, he really couldn’t give two $hits about it anymore. Exhaustion and sleep deprivation does that to you.

“Might as well sit down. It’s a long story.” He said, patting the area beside him in invitation.

Robin walked over and sat down, making sure there was a respectful distance between them even though she yearned to close the gap and place her hand over his, to snuggle beside him like how they cuddled on the couch that day.

“……..you know that the cure brings back the dead, right?” Marcel began quietly.

Robin nodded.

“Well, you see…..” he swallowed. “Thing is, it only works if it’s done in a certain timeframe. Like, someone can’t be dead for more than a day or so otherwise there’s no guarantee they can come back risk-free, yo-you know?”

Robin nodded again.

“And well……there’s Chat and she……” he closed his eyes, releasing a long breath through his nose. “God, she’s such an _idiote_.”

“Has she bothered you again?” Robin asked, managing to tone her furious scowl to a milder frown of concern.

“You know the saying cats have nine lives? Well that saying’s a load of crap. Chat she…….she’s died before.” He croaked out.

“But she’s still alive.” Robin pointed out. ‘Unfortunately.’ Not that she’d ever say that out loud in front of Marcel.

“Like I said, the cure brought her back but……” Marcel released a shaky sigh, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes, trying to fight back the tears and nausea.

“She doesn’t remember. She doesn’t remember dying a-and she keeps throwing herself head first into a fight with no regard for her life, bloody hell, she keeps thinking this is all some goddamn game!” he snapped, pulling his hair.

Maybe it was the lingering stress from the earlier akuma battle; maybe it was the potion still in his systems; maybe he was just sick and tired of Alya constantly going to such lengths for such petty reasons; maybe he was just _exhausted and tired of it all._

“Do you know what it’s like to have to see her die again and again? The worst part is that she didn’t even know, she knew nothing about it all, she knew nothing about just how far the damage had gone at this point. She had no idea that while she was sl-slacking on the job and goofing around, innocent people were dying. She was ignorant to the fact that she’s _fu$king died more than nine times_ and-and-” he got no further as his breath hitched, a choked sob coming out instead.

“Hey, hey, shh…..” Robin hushed gently, leaning forward to rub soothing circles on his back. “It’s not your fault.”

“Fu$k Hawkmoth.” Marcel spat. “Fu$k akumas, fu$k it all , just…..I’m _tired_.” He sobbed. “I’m just so tired……….”

He blinked when he felt his face pressing against a black fabric, realizing through the haze of emotions and exhaustion that it was Robin’s cape.

“I know, Marcel, I know.” Robin whispered empathetically, gently stroking his hair. “You fight and fight, you keep fighting even if you can’t see through all the fog when the next punch will be thrown. You keep going even if you don’t know if there’ll be anything left when the fog lifts. I know how that feels……and I know how hard it must be to keep fighting anyways.”

Marcel said nothing, he just buried his face in her shoulder and wrapped his arms around her.

“I’m here to protect you, Marcel. I’m here to help you. I am your guardian _and_ your confidant, don’t ever forget that, okay?” she said.

He nodded.

Finally, he pushed away from her, smiling a wet smile.

“Thanks, Rob.” He said. “But as nice as your company is, it’s already like….” He checked the time. “4 AM or something and I……” he yawned.

Man, now that he was emotionally drained, it seemed the potion lingered in his systems enough to still have effect.

Robin nodded.

“G’night, Rob.” Marcel mumbled, sleepily pulling the blankets over him.

“Goodnight, Marcel.” She whispered, turning the lights off for him.

Marcel was out like a light the moment he touched the pillow.

* * *

“Have you found anything useful, Maya?” Dahlia asked.

Currently she was in her room, sitting on her chair and desk wearing sweatpants and a sweater but with her crossed legs and steepled fingers, she looked every bit the professional intense businesswoman she would no doubt be eventually.

“Nice to see you too, D.” Maya huffed. “To answer your question though, yeah. I found something….and it ain’t pretty.”

“Let’s hear it.” She said.

“Well-”

Before she could begin, her door burst open, hitting the wall to reveal a haggard Tim.

“Hell’s teeth Drake, do you not know how to-” Dahlia turned around, ready to give her brother a piece of her mind when he interrupted her.

“Suicide.” He said. “That girl….she’s a fu$king monster.” He shook his head.

“Suicide?” Dahlia said, voice horrified as the unsavoury word registered. “Are you telling me…..”

In reply, Tim walked over to her desk and placed his laptop on. Typing a few keys, he opened numerous tabs.

The first one depicted a 13 year old girl who committed suicide 4 years ago. Her name was Abriana Belle.

“Abriana Belle, 13 years old; ballet prodigy and sweetheart of her school, loved by all.” Tim explained. “Look at this.” He brought up a medical file. It mentioned a twisted ankle, a sprained ankle, a fractured tibia and even a fractured kneecap.

“The first one occurred during a show, another during an audition and the last two in an ‘accident’. Coincidentally, our Italian associate was in the same school as her back then.” He explained.

Instantly, the pieces clicked.

“That b!tch.” Dahlia hissed.

“Yeah….and that’s only the first.” He brought up another tab, this one depicting another 13 year old in the same year six months later.

Bianca Eleonara. From what Dahlia could see on the tab, she was an average student with average grades and standard accomplishments for a girl her age.

She jumped off the roof of her school another six months later.

“According to the suicide note, she committed suicide due to mass bullying and social isolation from her peers.” Tim said. “Sound familiar?”

Dahlia took a breath through her teeth. It sounded _too_ familiar.

She gripped the armrest of her chair, trying not to picture Marcel being the one to one day throw himself off the roof of a building or a bridge.

“And this is only the beginning.” Tim said grimly.

Antonio Bosco, 14 years old; a Science prodigy who was caught up in a lab accident that scarred his face and right arm horribly. After that, the same pattern followed- bullying, ostracizing, shunning and eventually, suicide.

Four months later and another followed- Carlo Cedro, also 14 years old; a young champion horse rider who was steadily making his way to nationals. Unfortunately, he fell off his horse, the strap of his saddle suddenly snapping. He fell on top of a rock which damaged his spine, paralyzing him.

That hit Dahlia and Tim close to home, considering what happened to…Barbara…….

The poor boy was devastated, gradually falling into depression after that. And then a few months later…..his parents found out that he’d hung himself using the same leather straps that were meant for his saddle.

For a while, the two of them just sat there, processing all this. Processing the fact that all these people- all these children had taken their own lives all because of one girl who had been the same age as them back them, oh god-

“Four people…..” Dahlia said, her hands clenching into fist. “She was just a child, and she’s already killed four people…..”

Dahlia knew she wasn’t one to talk. After all, she knew how to kill a man long before she knew how to do basic cooking. But she was different- she had been borned and bred to be a killer back then.

But this girl? What excuse did she have? She was borned a normal privileged girl with normal parents and grew up with a normal childhood, what excuse did she have to commit such heinous acts?

“It all adds up. Lila had attended all their schools and not too long after their suicides, she just up and left. If that’s coincidence then I’m a duck.” Tim said.

“Have you shown this to father?” Dahlia asked, her voice icily sharp.

“First person I showed to before you.” He confirmed.

“This girl’s not a criminal, she’s a monster.” Dahlia spat.

“A monster that’s going into a very deep grave.” Tim agreed.

“That’s one grave I’ll gladly dance over with Todd.” She said.

Hearing a throat clear, it was then Dahlia realized that Maya had been listening in this whole time.

“Mind if I add in my own two cents?” she asked.

“Wait, who’s she?” Tim asked.

“An associate of mine.” Dahlia said coolly.

“Now that pleasantries are out of the way, as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, I had to snoop around and call in a few favours but I’ve got some deeper dirt on this girl.

“Turns out, her mother isn’t as ignorant as we thought. She brought her girl for a diagnosis and the results say she has antisocial disorder.” Maya revealed.

“So you’re basically telling us she’s a psychopath.” Dahlia deadpanned.

That made sense, honestly. Lila’s clear disregard for right and wrong; the persistent lying, deceit and manipulation; violating the rights of others through intimidation and dishonesty; her lack of empathy and remorse and her entire being in general screamed psychopath.

“Yeah, pretty much.” Maya said.

“Then why the hell is she not getting any help? I mean, shouldn’t she be in rehabilitation or juvie?” Dahlia asked.

“There’s lingering mentions of the occasional therapy sessions and a long trail of money- probably to cover up the whole thing. She must’ve managed to find a way to weasel out of it either through more manipulation or maybe her mom just bribed the professionals to save face, or her diplomatic immunity played a hand in it.” Maya said.

“Man, even if this girl wasn’t willingly working with a terrorist, all this $hit she’s done can land her a sentence behind bars anyway. Plus, by next year she’ll be an adult by then so the full weight of the law can come crushing down on her.” Tim pointed out.

“The day I personally crush her under my foot cannot come soon enough.” Dahlia sniffed.

“The day you pay me for helping you do this errand cannot come soon enough.” Maya snarked. “Did I have to go through the Ladyblog too? That thing was pure torture to my eyes.” She bemoaned.

“Oh hush, I’m paying you for your execution of action not your verbal complaints.” Dahlia snapped. “Did you deliver all the packages like I asked?”

“Every single one down to the T.” Maya confirmed.

“What did you do?” Tim asked warily.

Dahlia just grinned.

Well crap, if there’s anything worse than a glaring Dahlia, it was a _grinning_ Dahlia.

Tim just hopes he won’t have to help hide a body.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Alya screeched in frustration as her phone was practically drowned in spam.

Appending, image spam, blank spam, backscatter spam, advertisements, video games, online shopping websites, bitcoin- her phone was practically catatonic!

As if to rub salt into the wound, there was not one, but _two_ frickin viruses in her phone now, deleting the latest footage she had put together from other websites of Red Beetle’s most recent akuma battle! How is she going to satisfy her viewers and keep the traffic in her blog flowing without that?!

Nothing was working, she can’t even shut her phone off to restart it, everything kept lagging-

With a yell of frustration she threw her phone towards a wall, cracking the screen. As it fell down, the cover broke into two as well.

Instantly, the haze of anger washed away and she stared, eyes wide and mouth open as her precious phone laid on the floor, damaged further now. _Merde_ , what if she just damaged the battery or worse, the memory card and all the footage she’s accumulated, all the footage she’s passionately filmed and painstakingly edited is gone?!

This time, the yell of anguish and anger she released was enough to momentarily make Marcel snort awake before falling asleep again.

* * *

Bruce frowned, his finger tapping the surface of the console as he reviewed the information he managed to dig up so far regarding Gabriel Agreste.

So far the only three aspects he managed to uncover that were to take note of was one, the purchase of tickets to Tibet a few years ago; two, his wife’s mysterious disappearance who was now labelled as deceased and three, his personal assistant’s gradually ailing health.

The first aspect and the second were connected- for Gabriel had returned from that very same Tibet trip _without_ his wife. The reason as to why they even went there in the first place still remained unknown.

While Bruce himself had gone there during his earlier years to study and ingrain one of many skills Tibet had to offer, he couldn’t recall any of the monks or other brief associates mentioning the Agrestes.

Then again, there was also a chance that they simply showed up long after he left. And even if they did and said associates/monks wanted to notify him of new arrivals they didn’t exactly have email.

Naturally an investigation was launched following Emilie’s disappearance but it was soon brushed under as a cold case. And thus, Gabriel dropped out of public eye and became even more of a recluse, sheltering him and his daughter.

The third aspect was something trickier. According to his personal assistant’s- Nathalie Sancouer- medical history, the woman had a clean bill of health until three years ago.

According to the data, she’s had to take sleeping pills and numerous other medication lately and judging by the records and quantity, her condition is worsening.

Perhaps it had something to do with the miraculous she wielded? She was most probably Mayura after all so it’d make sense. And for all that power a miraculous can provide you didn’t need to be a wizard to know something like that _always_ has a price.

Did all miraculous give the wielder this form of backlash or was the Peacock Miraculous an exception? Perhaps it was broken or tainted with a curse of sorts?

He noted a presence nearby. Turning around, he saw Alfred approach sullenly which was a surprise. More often than not, Alfred would approach with a dry or witty line in hand to announce his presence.

He instantly noticed that something was wrong with his surrogate father. He looked older than ever, lines he didn’t notice before seemingly marring his already old face as he carried an invisible burden.

“Sir, pardon my bold audacity but it is urgent we hold a meeting regarding the miraculous case we are taking on immediately. It is prudent as I have information to share….information I should have told a long time ago.” The British butler said, tone even and controlled but his eyes…..

His eyes were a whirlwind of emotions that threw even Bruce off axis.

“Sure, Alfred.” Bruce said softly.

And that was how he found himself sitting in the living room for a family meeting with his adopted children. He noticed Tim and Dahlia looking antsy themselves, the latter looking ready to maim someone.

God forbid she actually does that.

Alfred placed his signature mandatory tea set down. Once everyone got their cup, Alfred cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention.

The clinking of teaspoons stirring paused; the sipping of tea was swallowed and teacups were placed down onto a saucer.

All eyes were on their faithful butler with rapt attention.

“There is something I must confess.” Alfred began. “I said nothing for I had taken a vow to never look back on that chapter of my life but with the turn of recent events, I realize it was foolish of me to do so.”

“No hard feelings, Alfie. We’ve all screwed up the pooch at some point.” Dick said.

“Your condolences are appreciated, Master Dick.” Alfred said, giving him a small smile before it was wiped off.

“I was once a miraculous holder.”

Silence…….

It stretched and stretched like taffy, as thin as a rubber band but as taut as a bowstring, waiting to snap-

It snapped.

“SHUT THE FU-” Alfred glared at Jason. “Front door.” The boy hastily amended.

“You were a miraculous holder?” Tim asked, voice tinged in awe.

“You ran around dressed as a magical furry?” Jason asked.

“Jason!” Stephanie and Tim scolded while Dick couldn’t help but snicker despite the bomb having just detonated.

“What?” Jason asked, spreading his hands out in a guileless gesture.

“Insects are not furries, Todd.” Dahlia deadpanned.

“Since when? For how long?” Bruce asked, as usual ignoring the chaotic bundles known as his children and focusing on the main task at hand.

“During the war.” Alfred said, his old eyes gaining a faraway look as he stared off into the distance. All of a sudden he wasn’t in the manor, he was back on the warzone, bearing a piece of jewellery carrying the weight of the world with him.

“It was brief, mind you. I only wielded it a handful of times. Miraculous are only meant to be employed to wielders under extremely dire circumstances. I was one of those to be chosen to do as such.

“I wielded the same miraculous one of the fiends of Paris wield now- the Peacock Miraculous.” His heart panged as he was reminded of how the precious miraculous was now being abused in such heinous ways.

“So you were an animal-themed hero yourself back in the day? No wonder you were cool with Bruce’s bat theme.” Jason mused aloud.

“The kwami of that miraculous was Duusu.” Alfred said softly, the fondness he held for said kwami evident. “He was the Kwami of Emotion, needless to say that title alone already speaks volumes of his personality.”

“What happened to him and his miraculous?” Stephanie asked.

At that, Alfred’s face dropped.

“I wielded it one last time before surrendering it. Duusu was a close companion in the short time we’ve known each other and while I did want to contribute with all my heart on the battlefield, I knew I wasn’t meant to do so like this.

“I didn’t trust myself as a worthy wielder. I didn’t trust the times, much less the people I was surrounded with. I couldn’t bear the thought of Duusu potentially getting harmed or worse, stolen and abused so I gave him back.”

Alfred shook his head sadly. “But it doesn’t matter now it seems. For right now as we speak, Duusu’s powers are being abused either ways.” He said sadly.

All members of the Bat Family’s hearts went out to Alfred. Their surrogate father/grandfather looked so heartbroken, so devastated over the loss of a close friend of his, it felt like a knife was being stabbed and twisted in their hearts though no doubt the pain doubled for the British butler himself.

“Thank you for sharing this with us, old friend.” Bruce said softly, his stoic mask finally cracking to show the sincerity he’s always possessed within.

“Thank you for bearing no ill will towards me despite my secret.” Alfred said.

“We all have skeletons in our closet, Alfie.” Jason said, his tone softer.

“Rest assured we will be what must be done to save Duusu as well.” Dahlia said.

Cassandra nodded. “We will help and do what we can.” She said, a pretty long sentence by her standards.

“Soooo what was it like?” Dick couldn’t help but ask. “Y’know, wielding a magical jewellery with superpowers and all that. Didja do a transformation sequence of some kind?”

“What, you mean like Power Rangers?” Tim snorted.

“Exactly.” Dick said shamelessly.

“Childish.” Dahlia sniffed.

“Says the girl who still plays Cheese Viking on the Batcomputer.” Tim mumbled.

Half a second later, Dick and Stephanie were trying to stop Dahlia from gouging Tim’s eyes out with a teaspoon while Jason cheered and hollered on the sidelines. Bruce groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as shenanigans collapsed all around him.

And Alfred?

He calmly gathered the tea set that still remained intact and brought it back to the kitchen.

At least the teaspoon Dahlia wielded wasn’t an authentic antique this time. Heaven knows he doesn't need the girl's grandmother rolling in her grave more than she already has.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“Are you done?” Bruce drawled, arms crossed as he watched Dahlia finally put the teaspoon down, a haggard Dick still clutching her waist lest she snap again while Stephanie coerced Tim to put down the throw pillow and the remote and come out from behind the couch.

Dahlia grunted while Tim gave a thumbs up.

“Good because now it’s my turn.” He said.

“Another one?” Jason groaned.

Cassandra elbowed him in the ribs.

“Dahlia.” He beckoned.

Dahlia approached him and took in the appearance of the letter he held out before her. The quality of the paper was as authentic and fine as parchment, the wax seal adding the usual Wayne flair to it with their family logo embedded in the blob of hardened wax.

“What’s this?” she asked, not taking it just yet.

“An invitation. I think it’s time we met your boyfriend.” Bruce said.

At that, everyone’s backs straightened. Jason and Tim looked alert and awake, the former barely restraining a grin. Stephanie and Cassandra were leaning forward eagerly. Although the latter’s face was stoic compared to the former’s, there was no denying the twinkle of anticipation in her eyes. Dick was just full out grinning his proudest brightest big brother grin.

“You want to meet Marcel in person.” Dahlia said slowly.

Bruce nodded.

“As Bruce Wayne.” She added.

Her father just rose a brow, no doubt wondering why she was even beating around the bush for once.

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because he’s going to be my future son-in-law.” Bruce said seriously.

Dick, Jason, Stephanie and Tim oohed at that. Dahlia shot them all a glare and though it silenced them it did little to deter their grins.

“Why the hesitation kitten?” a voice purred.

Everyone startled, they all turned to see Selina casually leaning against the doorframe with a Cheshire grin playing on her face.

“How long have you been there, waiting for the perfect moment to make an entrance?” Dahlia deadpanned.

“You know we all have a flair for dramatics.” She said with a shrug. “You still didn’t answer my question though.”

Dahlia raised her chin up high. “Bold of you to assume I was hesitating out of fear.” She said haughtily as she all but snatched the envelope out of her father’s grip.

“About time!” Jason said, leaning forward with a grin, a glint in his eye that reminded Dahlia of a wolf finally finding a suitable prey………

All of her siblings were grinning now. They were grinning and their eyes were glinting in a way that was very worrying and unsettling. She could practically see the gears spinning like buzzsaws in their thick skulls.

……..fu$k.

She looked down at the envelope in her hand. The piece of paper felt as heavy as iron and burned in her grip.

…..she just threw her own boyfriend to the wolves, didn’t she?

* * *

“Ah-choo!” Marcel sneezed.

“You alright, Marcel?” Tikki asked worriedly.

Marcel sniffed and wiped his nose. “Fine Tikki.” He said before continuing to sew Dahlia’s outfit.

“……wonder who was talking about me.” He muttered to no one in particular.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As much as I enjoy writing this fic, I don't wanna bore y'all with one filler after the next (even if some are important for the storyline or has much needed fluff in it) so yes, it's time our boi met the family out of costume!  
> I also like how in Daminette/Maribat fics, Alfred is said to have once been the wielder of the Peacock Miraculous. I'm sorry but I just couldn't resist using that concept AND for good reason (can't say anymore, SPOILERS)  
> In the fandom.wiki, Lila's trivia actually states that she has a classic case of antisocial personality disorder. Thus, I decided to note that down too. But that doesn't change my opinion on her- I HATE her, simple as that and everything she's done deserves major karma. In my opinion, this just solidifies my dislike for her.  
> So maybe I don't want her to die for that's too far (and still too merciful in my opinion) but I do want her to know that in the end, she's just another delusional grandeur fake who isn't even worthy of being disliked. That's just how insignificant she is.  
> That is all, sorry for the rant, I couldn't help myself. Stay tune for next time!


	19. (Not) A Filler; Good Girl's Outift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this is not a chapter. ;p But please, hear me out.

**【ＣＬＯＳＥＤ】**

Hi, readers. Sorry this isn't a new chapter but it is important.

I need your help.

I may be a writer but I wouldn't call myself much of an artist sometimes. Try as I might, I've been scratching my head for a description/base for Sabrina's potential design as Good Girl but head empty, no thoughts. I can't really google it up either so.....

What do you, the readers think? What should she look like? As of now, I allow you, the reader(s) to go wild. Unleash your imagination in the comments section and let me know what you guys think would suit Good Girl. Anyone and everyone is allowed to give a suggestion have it be a registered user of AO3 or a guest. Heck, if you want, you can even do fanart of her and attach a link to said drawing. Credits of the design will go to you, the rightful owner of course. Needless to say, you have free rein.

You are free to write down your suggestions until 10 October 2020.

Good luck everyone! (*＾▽＾)／

* * *

ENTRIES WILL NO LONGER BE TAKEN ACCOUNT AS THE DUE DATE HAS ALREADY PASSED. NONETHELESS, MOUNTAINS OF GRATITUDE TO THOSE WHO HAVE CHIPPED IN A PIECE OF THEIR IMAGINATION TO HELP ME DEVELOP A BASE FOR GOOD GIRL'S OUTFIT. THANK YOU AND TAKE CARE! ;D


	20. Invited to Meet My Girlfriend’s (Not) Normal Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The title says it all.

“And…..there!” Marcel said, securing the knot to the last stitch. His bandaged fingers finally set down the needle and thread and he stretched his arms above his head while he leaned back, relishing the pops of relief from his joints and muscles.

“Congrats, Marcel! This must be a new record for you!” Tikki congratulated.

“Bravo, Marcel.” Kaalki applauded.

“Thanks.” He said with a grin, downing another mug of potion tea.

Tikki and Kaalki tried not to dwell on the fact that that was his third mug. The latter did however surreptitiously wander off to temporarily hide Marcel’s remaining stash.

“I hope she likes it.” Marcel said, anxiously looking over the outfit one more time, double checking to make sure there were no frayed edges, too tight or too loose stitching, fluff or lint, a tear or a ripped hole in the fabric of the outfit.

“Marcel, she’ll love it.” Tikki reassured him.

Marcel yelped, jumping as his phone vibrated. Reaching over he saw a text from Dahlia.

“Well speak of the devil….” He muttered, turning it on.

[Chat name: Paris Boi & Gotham Gurl]

GGF: May I come over? I have an urgent message to pass to you. It can only be done in person.

Marcel blinked. An urgent message to be passed in person? Must be pretty important.

Angel: Sure. When?

GGF: ASAP

Angel: U wanna come over now?

GGF: Preferably, yes.

Angel: Ok. ETA?

GGF: 10 minutes.

Angel: Make sure to wear your seatbelt.

GGF: Angel, precaution and preparation is my middle name.

“Wonder what kinda message she’s talking about?” Marcel mused aloud.

“Maybe it’s family related?” Tikki suggested.

“Maybe….” He hummed.

Then he paused.

Family related.

Family as in the Waynes. Her father, Bruce Wayne.

The Prince of Gotham, one of Gotham’s biggest most influential elites- the owner of the building him and Dahlia broke into during their first date-

Oh no.

Oh god please no.

“Marcel? Marcel?!” Tikki asked, noticing her wielder gradually falling into a spiral of existential crisis.

“Oh no…..Tikki…..WHAT IF SHE’S COMING HERE TO BREAK UP WITH ME?!” he asked, pulling his hair in worry as his eyes became comically wide.

“Marcel, you’re jumping to assumptions. Calm down.” His kwami tried to reassure him but doggone it, his mind was going into override with worst case scenarios.

Kaalki watched from a safe distance and decided that yup, sleep deprivation was a b!tch as the humans would say.

“Her dad probably disapproves of our relationship and she’s going to dump me and disown me and say we should pretend we never met and she’s gonna have a restriction order ready and I’ll never be able to go so much as 10 feet close to her- oh god, Tikki, what if _I’m banned from Gotham altogether?!”_ Marcel fretted, practically wailing into Tikki’s face as he clutched her and shook her like a magic eight ball.

“M-a-r-c-e-l c-a-l-m d-o-w-n!” Tikki stuttered out through the shaking. Having enough, she phased out of his frantic grip and rose to his eye level.

“Get a hold of yourself!” she said, giving him a slap with her small paw.

It stung as much as a pinch but it grounded Marcel. Said boy blinked, slightly dazed from his own panicked ramble.

“Have you ever considered the possibility that she just wants to talk to you and confide in her own personal problems?” Tikki pointed out.

“Uh…..” Marcel paused. Why hadn’t he thought of that? …………welp, he felt like an idiot now.

“I think the potion’s having some lingering albeit belated effects on him.” Kaalki said, voice laced with amusement.

“Yeah, probably.” Marcel said with a nod as though to convince them and himself that that was exactly the case. His embarrassed red face however was a dead giveaway.

“I think it’s time to wrap this up, hm?” Tikki suggested gesturing to the outfit.

“Oh, right.” Marcel said.

He delicately handled the outfit like a newborn baby, neatly folding it to prevent unnecessary wrinkles or creases before wrapping it prettily with floral wrapping paper. He made sure to attach a card with his signature inside it of course.

Just then there was a knock on his door. Panicking, he hurriedly opened a drawer and hid the gift inside.

“Come in!” he called.

Dahlia walked in, making him release an internal breath of relief for taking the precaution to hide his gift for her.

“Hi, Angel.” Dahlia greeted with a small smile.

“Hi.” He greeted cheerfully. Then he noticed the wariness to her stance and concern ebbed his heart. “You said you had to pass me an urgent message in person?”

Dahlia simply held out an envelope, evidently addressed to him. He carefully took it turned it around.

He instantly noticed the fancy fine quality of the envelope and even more so the wax seal on it. The envelope suddenly felt as heavy as lead in his hand when he noticed the Wayne logo on it.

Hoping his hands weren’t too shaky, he gently pried it open and took out the piece of paper inside. He glanced at Dahlia who simply nodded.

Unfolding the letter, he read the contents written in elaborate calligraphy.

To Monsieur Dupain-Cheng,

I apologize for the suddenness of this message but my daughter has spoken highly of you. I, Bruce Wayne would like to graciously invite you over to Wayne Manor tomorrow at 5PM to meet you in person. You are also welcomed to stay for dinner; please, I insist.

You can give us your reply whenever you feel ready. Keep in mind that you are not obligated to accept this invitation as you are allowed to take as much time as you need at your own pace.

However, if you do accept, I would like to notify you that Alfred Pennyworth-our family butler- will personally arrive to pick you up at your hotel at 4:30 PM.

Regardless of your acceptance or refusal, I sincerely look forward to meeting you. Take care and stay safe. I hope you will find your stay in Gotham pleasant.

-Bruce Wayne

P.S. Don’t worry about the rooftop fiasco, its water under the bridge now.

Marcel’s ears turned red at the mention of their first date where they technically broke the law somewhat.

“He mentioned the rooftop didn’t he?” Dahlia deadpanned as though reading his mind.

Marcel nodded.

“Damn it, I told him not to mention that.” She hissed.

“You sure he holds no hard feelings?” he asked.

“Marcel, did he say he forgave you?” she asked.

“Um….yeah?” he replied.

“Despite what the preposterous tabloids claim, trust me when I say my father doesn’t back down from his word.” She said, voice firm and even as ever. Then her face softened. “And he’s more humane and caring than he’d like others to think. He really does want to get to know you, Marcel. Not just as my boyfriend but as a young man with talent and potential.”

“I think you’re laying it on a bit thick there.” Marcel said, slightly taken aback by the high regard.

“I’m not.” She said, voice dead serious. “Like I said, he’s intrigued. And as incorrigible as my father can be, he has a talent for knowing potential and good character when he sees it.”

“So being an accomplice to breaking and entering is considered good character to him? Good to know.” Marcel joked.

“Okay, now that’s just getting old.” She huffed but her lip quirked up nonetheless.

“The older it is, the classier it becomes.” He said with a wink.

“Haha comedian, hilarious.” She said.

“You love me anyways.” He said, elbowing her.

His eyes widened when Dahlia grabbed his collar and yanked him down before pressing her lips against his.

“Indeed I do.” She purred.

“……so……um……” he rubbed the back of his head, feeling bad that he had to ruin the tender moment but hey, someone had to bring up the elephant in the room. “Your family?”

“Oh, them.” Dahlia said. She took a deep breath and let it out. “Where do I even begin?” she asked herself more than him.

“Well, tell me about your siblings. How many do you have exactly?” he asked.

“The oldest is Grayson, followed by Todd, Drake, Cain, Stephanie and myself. Although not as solid as the rest, I guess Row and Thomas are to be considered as well. There’s also Gordon who’s an honorary goddaughter at this point.” She recounted.

Marcel whistled. “That’s a big family.” He said. After all, he spent all his life growing up in a small family which consisted of himself, his mom and dad and occasionally Nona.

“A majority of them were dropped on their heads as babies so I’m thankful that at the very least, I am not blood-related to them.” She sniffed.

“So you keep saying.” He said, amused.

“Trust me, they may appear as Gotham’s teenage heartthrobs but underneath it all, they’re incorrigible spawns of Satan, especially Todd.” She snorted.

Back at Wayne Manor, Jason sneezed.

“I worry they might…..overwhelm you with their…eccentricities.” Dahlia tried to put out tactfully. ‘Or worse, humiliate me….or you…or both of us.’

That part wisely went unsaid.

“You do realize you’re speaking to the guy who comes from a place where magical supervillains and evil butterflies are the norm, right?” Marcel pointed out.

“Personally, I’d rather deal with that than the combined might of my siblings. Crackpots they may be but formidable ones indeed when they band together.” She said.

“You make it sound as though I’m about to go to war.” He half-joked.

“Considering the fact that you’re stepping foot into Wayne Manor to meet my family personally? You may as well be.” Dahlia said with such grimness that Marcel suddenly wondered if whether or not Hawkmoth might consider being an @$$hole today.

For once, he might not consider that such a bad thing.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“Which one should I wear, Cass? This?” she held a knee-length violet laced cocktail dress in front of her body. “Or this?” the second option was a knee-length eggplant purple empire dress.

Cass pointed towards the violet laced cocktail dress in reply.

“Why dress?” Cassandra asked curiously. Stephanie didn’t seem the type to dress up to impress boys.

“Well, our little sister is bringing over her super cute boyfriend who is sweetly adorbs and I wanna give a good first impression as Stephanie, not Batgirl.” She explained matter-of-factly.

“What are you wearing?” she asked.

Cassandra took out a simple but elegant knee-length dress with long sleeves and a v-neck in response.

“Definitely your style.” Stephanie agreed.

In another room a few doors away, the Batboys were plotting.

“So, what’s the game plan?” Jason asked, rubbing his hands together with a grin that would make Satan proud.

“Well for starters, no, Jason, you are _not_ going to wearing a hockey mask and grabbing a bat to try and bash one of our skulls in an attempt to ‘test’ Marcel.” Tim said sternly.

“Oh it’s just a test! I won’t even swing that hard. I mean, Dali says the guy’s got some moves and I wanna see if he can back up his bark.” Jason waved off.

“There are other ways to do that that _doesn’t_ involve assault which by the way, is _illegal.”_ Tim grumbled.

“Well I for one look forward to showing him Dali’s childhood album.” Dick said with a mischievous grin and a twinkle in his blue eyes.

“Aw hell to the yes, we have _got_ to do that.” Jason agreed.

Though Tim was grinning along with them, he was also internally planning his will.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Dahlia sneezed. Her brows furrowed in confusion for she was warm and comfortable in here and her health has been at its peak today.

“Someone must be talking about you behind your back.” Marcel teased.

“About good things, I hope.” She joked.

“Yeah…..” he said. Then he glanced back down to the invitation he still held onto. It was just paper really with a blob of hardened wax just to add to the fancy flair and yet…….

“You don’t have to give us your reply now. Take as much time as you need.” Dahlia said softly.

“I know….thanks for the offer and patience and all but….” Marcel exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I uh….need some time to think this over…alone.”

Dahlia nodded in understanding. “I’ll leave you to it.” She said.

“For what it’s worth, _ange_. I’m honoured that your family wants to sincerely get to know me.” Marcel said, pecking her on the cheek in goodbye.

“They do, Marcel and they already like you believe it or not.” She said.

“They do?” he asked, surprised.

She shrugged. “They just have their ways.” She said enigmatically.

“But please, know this, regardless of my family name or legacy, I would gladly surrender all of it to spend the rest of my life beside you.” She said earnestly, holding his hand.

“What did I do to deserve you?” Marcel sighed, kissing her tenderly.

Dahlia just smiled and relished his presence, allowing herself to be enamoured in his embrace.

“I often ask myself the same, habibi.” She said.

“Habibi?” he asked, tilting his head to the side like an adorable confused puppy.

“It means beloved in Arabian.” She explained.

“Ok, _xiao feng_.” He said, kissing her knuckles.

Her heart fluttered. _Xiao feng_ means little phoenix. How poetically fitting.

“Ciao, habibi.” She said, blowing him a kiss before taking her leave.

Marcel just smiled and waved goodbye as the door closed behind her. Once it did, he lowered his hand and brought up the other to gaze at the invitation.

He sat down and reread the invitation over and over until the words became a blurr as they imprinted themselves onto his eyeballs. He placed the letter down when he became aware of how sweaty his palms were in fear of accidentally staining the invite and smearing the writing.

“Wow.” He breathed out.

“At least you’re forgiven for breaking and entering.” Tikki joked.

“The calligraphy is beautiful and the quality of this paper is exquisite. And that wax seal is truly the mark of a noble.” Kaalki remarked, her eyes taking in the elaborate letter Marcel set aside.

“………….hey, Tikki?” Marcel asked slowly, his hands fisting the bed sheet.

“Yes?” she asked.

“Tikki, if Dahlia and I ever become committed do I….. _can I_ tell her? Can I tell her I’m Red Beetle?” he asked.

There he said it.

The one question that’s been nagging the outer regions of his subconscious, gradually making progress with each passing moment he spent together with Dahlia before finally breaching past the final barrier and making itself known to him.

Should he……could he…..would she accept it? Would she accept him? Would she forgive him? Would she still love him? Would she still look at him the same way? _Could_ she ever do any of the above?

Could they still have what they do now? Could they….could take the next step together?

He bit his lips and tried to ignore the scars that were reopening his heart. The scars left by heartbreak back when he stupidly thought love was simple and perfect and pure happiness when it’s not. Adrianne….Chat….they were proof of that.

They were opened and burning now as though salt was being rubbed onto them, making them fester. He tried to ignore them and focus on the now.

The now where he has a better amazing girlfriend who understands and loves him.

…..the same girlfriend who’s family wants to meet him in person.

Said family is also one of the richest, powerful and most influential families in Gotham City.

Marcel brought a hand up and rubbed his earlobe, feeling the smooth studs under his fingertips. Right now, they looked so plain and unimportant yet…..

He glanced over at Tikki, floating right there in front of him, gazing at him in concern with her big blue eyes, her little paws pressing against each other nervously.

She was so small, barely larger than his palm.

Yet, in her even smaller paws, she held so much raw power.

Power that he too held. Power that he was responsible over……

Power he would have to protect and watch over as the next Guardian.

“Who am I kidding?” he barked with a bittersweet laugh. “I can’t….can I?” he choked out.

“You told Chris. You told Sabrina.” Tikki pointed out.

“Yeah and look at how they ended up.” Marcel pointed out. “Both of them stuck in the same fight as I am.”

All things considered, Sabrina was probably luckier though. Till now, she hasn’t suffered any fatal injuries during the handful of times she was Good Girl…..yet.

And again, he wasn’t one to push his luck.

He wasn’t blind. To allow Dahlia to get this close….what would she say about it all? About his duty not just as a superhero but his life-bound duties as a Guardian? What would she say about the Order of the Guardians?

Worse, what if she too wanted to become a miraculous wielder? What if she wanted to join the fight and contribute as another fighter on the front lines with him?

The thought of her getting hurt or worse, dying brought a bitter taste to his mouth as his heart twisted.

Tikki fidgeted as she faced her own internal struggle. A part of her wanted to tell Marcel what Plagg had told her; she wanted to tell Marcel that it was okay and that he _should and could_ be with Dahlia because in a way, they were meant to be together.

And even if they couldn’t be together as lovers….maybe the least she can do is quell his fears about their bond. Regardless if it’s romantic or platonic, they can and most probably _will_ still be together.

“Marcel, you can.” She said.

“Huh?” he asked.

“I, Tikki, Kwami of Creation and Luck to the Ladybug Miraculous give you my blessing to tell Dahlia Wayne who you are.” She told him resolutely.

“What?!” he spluttered. “But Tikki, I thought I-”

“Just because you shouldn’t do it doesn’t mean you can’t, Marcel.” She told him gently.

“You shouldn’t have told Chris about your secret identity but you did. You shouldn’t have given him a miraculous again after his identity has been compromised but you did. You shouldn’t have trusted your secret identity to anyone else but you did. You shouldn’t have to fight this fight because you’re still so young….but you’re still fighting anyway.

“So tell me, Marcel, how is this any different?” she asked him and suddenly, she really did look and sound like a centuries old jaded but wise creature.

“Because……because I love her, Tikki. I…..” he swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’m scared.” He whispered.

“I’m scared of getting my heart broken again; I’m scared of screwing this up; I’m scared something will happen that might end this; I’m scared she’ll get hurt or worse, die like Adrianne’s already doing; I’m scared of bringing her out of one crime city to another warzone; I’m scared she’ll hate me for doing all this and I-I’m s-scared of…I’m scared of being abandoned or worse, _betrayed_ again.” He choked out.

“Oh Marcel…..” she gently stroked his hair and cupped his cheek. “Trust me when I say that even if the whole world betrayed you, Dahlia would turn her back on the whole world without hesitation to stand by your side.”

“You….really think so?” he asked.

“I know so.” Tikki said firmly.

“…………..imagine what the headlines would be- Only Biological Wayne Heir Daughter Marries Magical Bug Boy from Paris.” Marcel joked with jazz hands.

“I think she wouldn’t mind that.” She said. Then her face turned sober. Maybe she couldn’t outright tell him just yet but she could leave a hint.

“Marcel, trust me, there’s more to Dahlia than meets the eye. Something tells me you aren’t the only one with secrets in this relationship.” She said.

“Well…..Dahlia is pretty secretive.” Marcel admitted. “But if she does have a secret, what do you think she’s hiding?”

Tikki just shrugged. Other than being the most suitable wielder for Plagg, Tikki honest to god knew nothing else about the girl.

“………I won’t tell her.” Marcel said decisively, his eyes firmly settled. “Not yet. I’ll tell her someday but not today or tomorrow.”

Tikki nodded understandingly.

“But I do have to tell her what I’m gonna do with this.” He said, picking up the letter again.

He stared at the letter, a pensive look on his face as he contemplated.

Then it struck Marcel.

He was being kinda dang ridiculous now. Utterly ridiculous as Chris would put it.

He dealt with magically enhanced supervillains on a daily basis, hell, he brought the dead back to life on a daily basis, himself included.

So why the hell did the prospect of meeting his girlfriend’s family rattle him so much?

‘Maybe its cuz if you screw up, you can never show your face in Gotham ever again?’

Okay, there’s that. Thank you pessimist part of his brain, you’re a real staunch presence in there.

Still, he meant what he said to Tikki. He loved Dahlia and for the first time in his life, he was committed to something outside of his duties as a superhero.

“I’m going.” He decided.

Without saying another word, he grabbed his cell out- before he lost his nerve- and texted Dahlia.

[Chat name: Paris Boi & Gotham Gurl]

Angel: I’m coming. I’ll be ready and waiting at the lobby at 4:30 sharp.

Then his eyes strayed towards the drawer. He opened it up, the neatly wrapped present containing the heartfelt handmade outfit nestled inside it.

Angel: Can u drop by early tmrw? I have to give you something in person too.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“Mistress Dahlia, I would advise you to stop biting your thumbnail lest you damage your tooth enamel.” Alfred said.

Dahlia crossed her arms, preventing her from doing it ever again. She wasn’t even aware of her actions until Alfred pointed it out to her.

“…penny for your thoughts?” Alfred asked.

“No.” she said curtly.

“Just trying to make small talk.” He said amiably.

Dahlia pulled up the screen in response.

Alfred just sighed. Ah young love…………and hormones.

Behind the screen, Dahlia glanced out the window. It was tinted, allowing her to see the outside world while the latter remained ignorant to her vigilance.

Ignorance……secrets was what gave birth to ignorance.

Ignorance that Marcel had.

And that terrified her.

Yes, for once, she, Dahlia Wayne, the 5th Robin and partner to Batman, the heir to her father’s legacy and granddaughter of the Demon’s Head himself was terrified.

She thought back to the invitation she had given to Marcel on behalf of not just her father but her whole family.

Her fingers twitched because god, how she had wished she had just burned it now.

The invitation could mean many things.

It meant her father was going to give Marcel a chance to truly gain his approval.

It meant her father was giving him a chance to be a part of their family.

It meant her father…..was going to determine if Marcel was capable of handling the truth of her family.

Dahlia sighed and placed her face in her hands, desperately trying to meditate despite the limited space the car offered.

It wouldn’t be a first- Dick, Jason, Tim, all of them had done something similar. Barbara, Stephanie, they were living proof of that…..then again, considering the former’s condition-

No! No, that was not because of them. No, as…..undignified as it was, her fall from grace was because of her title as the Commissioner’s daughter, _not_ as Batgirl.

Even if Barbara hadn’t been pulled into this life….deep down, they all knew that chances are the Joker would’ve pulled the trigger to cripple her anyways.

‘But what one day, something like that happens to Marcel because he’s the boyfriend of Dahlia Wayne?’ a voice whispered into her mind, spreading like an ink stain.

Of course she’s considered that. She was also Dahlia Wayne, daughter of Bruce Wayne. Her entire family has been threatened, kidnapped and held for ransom god knows how many times simply for being part of the Wayne clan.

She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the soft leather of her seat.

Dahlia liked to view herself as an independent woman capable of taking care of herself. Her mother had ingrained it into her that no matter if she was a woman or a girl, she was to be independent. A determined steel-hearted fighter and an independent persistent survivor who would rely on no one in life’s journey.

She would want for no one.

Yet, here she was now, yearning for Marcel.

Dahlia realized that she truly loved him and….she wanted to commit. She wanted to commit to something outside of her role as a Wayne heir or Robin.

Was it selfish? Was this what father felt like when he struggled with his internal conflict to accept Selina? Was this what Grayson felt like when he contemplated starting a relationship with Kori?

Could she…should she……..would she be allowed to enclose her secret to Marcel? To let him know that all along, since the very beginning she has always been there for him without knowing it?

Would he be offended? Worse, would he feel violated? Would that make her stoop to the same level as that blonde infidel?

That last part brought a bitter taste to her mouth.

Sighing, she sucked her pride and brought down the screen.

For a while, neither her nor Alfred made the first move.

…..they reached a red light and finally, Alfred made his advance.

“Dime for your thoughts?” he tried again.

“How generous of you, Pennyworth.” She snarked, her lips quirking up slightly. “But to answer that…..I have a lot on my mind.”

“We have quite a ways to go until we reach home and the traffic isn’t lenient today.” He pointed out.

“………am I being selfish, Pennyworth?” she asked.

“Now what makes you think that?” he asked softly, turning around to look at his surrogate granddaughter.

“I want to tell Marcel but if I do, I endanger my family. If I don’t tell him, I endanger him regardless. If I do tell him….he might never be able to look at me the same way ever again and I don’t want that. Is it selfish that I’m willing to do or not do all this just for the sake of my own happiness and contentment?” she asked.

“Oh, Mistress Dahlia…..” Alfred said, his old face softening tenderly. “You, my dear, are far from selfish.” He told her.

“Enlighten me.” She said.

“If you were selfish, trust me when I say we wouldn’t be having this conversation as we speak. Tell me, think back, who were you back when you first arrived at our door.” He said.

Dahlia cringed. That was all Alfred needed.

“If you truly were selfish, you never would’ve been able to stray onto the right path, the better path. If you were selfish, you wouldn’t have been willing to turn your back on the woman you once called your mother, you wouldn’t have chosen to stand beside the man you call a father who’s come to terms to love you despite your darker flaws. If you were selfish, you never would’ve chosen to grow into the mature capable humane woman you are now.

“For what it’s worth, Mistress Dahlia, I believe you are far from selfish. Self-centred? Hm, at times perhaps. Selfish? Heaven forbid it.” He said.

Dahlia sat there, mulling over his words. Whether Alfred knew it or not…his words were worth more than priceless to the Bat Family.

Her phone vibrated and she took it out. Her heart fluttered when she saw Marcel’s text.

[Chat name: Paris Boi & Gotham Gurl]

Angel: I’m coming. I’ll be ready and waiting at the lobby at 4:30 sharp.

Angel: Can u drop by early tmrw? I have to give you something in person too.

He said yes, he accepted the invitation, he was going to meet her family.

Before she could fall into a spiral or worse, lose her nerve, she typed back a reply.

GGF: Time?

Angel: 4 sound good?

GGF: I’ll be there.

“Mistress Dahlia?” Alfred asked.

“Alfred, alert my father immediately. Marcel has accepted his invitation and will be coming to the manor to meet him and the others in person. I expect the table to have a setting for an extra member, positioned next to my seat and the meal must be nothing less than the finest you have to offer.” She said in a tone so very familiar to Alfred.

He felt his lip quirk up, his old body feeling a tingle of anticipation course through it.

Tomorrow night’s dinner is certainly going to be a remarkable event.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Xiao feng nickname/pet name was something I found on google. I think it suits Robin considering she's a bird- without it being too obvious- and well.....she's died once considering the fiasco with the Heretic and all that.  
> Dick being the proud eldest brother that he is would of course have an embarrassing but wholesome album of Dahlia when she was younger.  
> Sorry if the chapter was too short or disappointing. Don't worry, in the next chapter our boi will finally be taking the next step by meeting Dali's family.  
> Alfred just hopes the manor won't be burned down. Bloodstains are a pain to clean.


	21. Meeting My Girlfriend’s (Not) Normal Family; Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our boi finally meets the Waynes in person.

Dahlia woke up bright and early- earlier than usually actually. The moment she opened her eyes, discipline kicked in to remind her of the definite course of action to be taken with vigour.

Washing up and getting dressed, the first thing she did was reconnaissance. God knows what her siblings could be plotting or what kind of traps they could’ve discreetly prepared all over the manor have it be a harmless prank or a deadly trap to decapacitate. 

She also checked under every surface, every drawer, every nook and cranny and inside any object that could be used as possible storage for any humiliating blackmail material. She even checked the chandelier!

Thankfully, Pennyworth didn’t know about the last part and fingers crossed, he never will.

Her paranoia paid off however when she found a small stack of adoption papers hidden in Todd’s disgusting laundry hamper.

She had shredded those and flushed them down his toilet.

After that, she saw to it to go over the menu Pennyworth had planned to make. God forbid her siblings tried to slip some kind of truth serum into Marcel’s meal.

Alfred had chased her out after her triple check and forbade her from coming inside to disrupt his cooking any longer. She would’ve threatened to fire him had he not given her the look and remind her that she was in the kitchen which was _Alfred’s_ domain.

She wisely did a tactical retreat.

“You’re wound up today.” Dick remarked as she did her routine training to loosen up.

Dahlia just grunted, not turning to acknowledge him but not dismissing him either as she pounded the punching bag.

“I dunno bout you but I’m looking forward to dinner tonight.” Dick went on. Dahlia scoffed at the obvious bait.

“You always do.” She grunted.

“Yeah but for once, it’ll be interesting.” He said.

“Grayson, pray tell when was the last time we had a dull dinner?” she pointed out.

“Four nights ago when Bruce and Tim talked about business stocks?” he tried.

“Which prompted you, Todd and Stephanie to waste good peas in an attempt at a real life version of Plant VS Zombies?” she shot back.

“Hey, we ate all our other greens.” He defended.

“Pennyworth looked ready to throw a fit.” She huffed.

“Memory serves, your hands aren’t clean either missy.” He pointed out with a smug smirk as he sauntered towards the gymnastics equipment.

“I only retaliated in self-defence.” She said defensively.

“Riiiiight.” He drawled from his handstand on the parallel bars.

Dahlia grunted, punching the bag. Her punch was noticeably more powerful now that she simply pictured the blonde Barbie’s face onto it just for the heck of it. Panting, she unwrapped the combat tape from her hands and took a swig from her bottle.

“……..so….you gonna tell him?” Dick asked, somersaulting off the parallel bars and walking over to sit beside her.

“About our night life? In all honesty, yes but not today and certainly not tonight or tomorrow or the day after.” She replied honestly but Dick could sense the wary hesitance underneath it all.

“So you’ll tell him someday?” he clarified.

Dahlia nodded.

“Weeell look at it this way; who knows? There’s also the chance he might be able to find out himself before you tell him.” He said.

“He’s not a detective.” She pointed out.

“He’s not blind either.” He shot back. “I mean, think about it, once someone finds out who one of us are, the rest aren’t too hard to connect the dots.”

That……was true. Tim could testify to that after all.

“I don’t want him to get hurt.” Dahlia said.

“He can take care of himself.” Dick reassured.

“That’s what they always say.” She scoffed. “Dick, Joan x-rayed him.” She said solemnly.

Dick’s eyebrows shot up. He wasn’t sure whether to be surprised that sweet Joan would do something like that or the fact that Dahlia seems okay with her doing so.

“And?” he ventured.

“Marcel’s spine has been broken twice in three places with half a dozen fractures; almost every ribcage has been either broken or cracked or full out shattered; his left arm and both legs should be amputated at this point; his sternum has been fractured multiple times and that’s not even counting the organ ruptures and internal damage. One of his kidneys should be failing and one of his lungs punctured.” She said gravely.

She recited every single injury and scar Joan had told her that day, every piece of evidence that blended together to paint a picture of agony and death.

Yet, Marcel was still there. He was still there and he was bright and vibrant and joyful and compassionate and full of life. Dahlia dreads the day the bright paint chips off to reveal the darker undertones.

Undertones mixed with blood, _his_ blood.

“My god…..” Dick breathed out, eyes wide. “Jesus fu$king Christ on a stick.” He repeated.

“I……I’m….terrified, Dick.” She admitted to him, her knuckles turning white as she clutched the bottle in her hand to ground herself. “What if one day….what if one day, I’m the reason he has to add another scar, another injury to his body like a tally on some sick piece of record?”

“Dali, you know we’d never let that happen.” Dick said firmly but reassuringly. “We have precautions, we have contingencies, we have safe houses and we make sure to cover every hole.”

“Look at Gordon, Grayson. Do we really?” she snapped, harsher than she intended.

“Well, look at Marcel and Red Beetle. In case you forgot, Marcel is already a superhero’s Oracle.” He pointed out.

“He shouldn’t be.” She said vehemently.

“Neither should you be risking your neck in green tights but you’ve been doing it since you were 10 anyways.” He said.

“I’m different; I was bred, trained and raised for it.” She defended.

“And I was bred, trained and raised to be an acrobat in Haly’s Circus but look at where I am now.” Dick said, gesturing to himself.

Dahlia looked away, unwilling to admit defeat aloud.

Both of them also tactfully decided not to bring up the Court of Owls.

“Dahlia….” Dick said, gently placing his hand over hers. “I think I speak for all of us when I say the choice to tell is yours. The choice of what to do afterwards is Marcel’s.

“I also speak for all of us when I say regardless of what you choose, we’ll support and respect your decision.”

With that said, he grabbed his towel and bottle and left Dahlia alone to gather her thoughts.

Ten minutes later, he passed by Stephanie’s room and heard Dahlia promising retribution upon the blonde should she humiliate Dahlia in front of her boyfriend later tonight.

Welp, looks like she’s gathered herself back together already.

* * *

Marcel nervously glanced at the clock. 5 more minutes until Dahlia arrived.

He sat down and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath….holding it in…..out. In…..out…..in…..out. He sipped the last of his tea, the slight dash of potion calming his racing heart somewhat.

“You look dashing, Marcel.” Tikki cooed.

He smiled at her and looked over his outfit one more time to ensure it was free of wrinkles, lint or stains.

It was one of his MDC originals- a midnight blue blazer with embroidered autumn leaves over a white vest and salmon pink t-shirt, matching midnight blue pants with high tops. His signature was disguised amongst the pattern inside the leaves.

His blazer had a hidden pocket inside for Tikki and to store Kaalki’s miraculous should he have to make a quick getaway though he hoped it wouldn’t come to that. It’d be pretty rude to just up and leave after all.

Walking over to the drawer, he took out the gift, still neatly wrapped inside its floral wrapping paper. He gulped, realizing how sweaty his palms were and how heavy the package felt in his hand.

There was a knock on his door and he yelped. Glancing at the clock, he realized that must be Dahlia. Hurriedly wiping his sweaty palms on his pants and tossing the present onto his bed, he answered the door.

“Knock knock?” he joked, trying to cover his nerves.

“I thought one knocking should be the one asking?” she teased.

“And I should be saying come in.” he said, letting her inside.

“Nervous for tonight?” she asked.

“I’m not nervous, I’m terrified.” He said bluntly.

“Good. Only a fool would feel no fear.” She said with a wise nod.

“You seem pretty calm about all this.” He pointed out.

“Marcel, I was tempted to burn the invitation the moment it was in my hands. Right now a part of me is still tempted to just tell my family there’s been a horrible accident that destroyed the car and prevented us from meeting them, thus we couldn’t show up when really you and I are cuddling on the couch watching a cheesy rom-com.” She deadpanned.

She eyed his blazer and decided perhaps a change of topic was at hand. It might help calm both of them down somewhat.

“Is that an MDC original?” she asked cheekily.

“Yup.” He said proudly.

“It’s exquisite.” She said, admiring the craftsmanship.

“Thanks.” He said. Walking over to the counter, he offered her a macaroon.

Dahlia closed her eyes, savoring the taste that exploded on her tongue and satisfying texture on her teeth.

“I made some for the rest of your family too. Hope you don’t mind.” He said, gesturing to a box.

“Frankly, I’m think you’re guaranteed to win them over the moment one of them taste these.” Dahlia said.

Internally though, she shuddered at the thought of her chaotic rambunctious siblings becoming high on sugar when they were already high 24/7.

Marcel’s eyes glanced back towards the present. “Actually, there’s a reason I asked you to come early.”

“The suspense is killing me.” She drawled with a teasing smirk. It dropped however when she saw him hold out a package, neatly wrapped in modest but pretty floral wrapping paper.

“Here. This is for you. I made it myself and….and I just really hope you like.” He said.

Internally, a part of him cringed at the rather lame wording.

Nonetheless the tender sincerity was evident, bringing a smile to Dahlia’s face that spoke a thousand words.

It reminded Marcel of watching a flower bloom in all its glory.

“ _Merci_ , angel.” She said, accepting the gift with a tender peck on the cheek.

“ _De rein, ange_.” He said bashfully.

“Now then, shall we?” Dahlia asked, tucking the present under her arm.

Smiling, Marcel grabbed the box filled with macaroons and offered his arm, hooking it with hers.

“We shall.” He said.

And so he walked out arm-in-arm with his amazing girlfriend, a smile on his face and a stomach that was ready to hurl out its contents.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Good news; Marcel made it to the manor without hurling and staining the fine-quality leather seats.

Bad news; he was now standing outside the gate that led to the manor and already, it took everything inside him to not just bolt on the spot and hide in a hole.

His stomach had tightened into a sailor’s knot the moment he saw the ornate gates come into view, like a looming warden. He almost yelped and wet his pants when the hinges creaked open and they drove inside.

Dahlia was holding his hand, her thumb rubbing soothing circles on it and he was grateful, really. It grounded him and reminded him that not everyone here was against him.

Seriously, Wayne Manor made Gabriel Agreste’s home look like a cottage in comparison.

“Ready, habibi?” Dahlia asked.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Marcel said with a shaky smile, squeezing her hand.

The ornate doors before them were opened and Marcel found himself looking at an elderly man with a gaunt face and balding white hair, a black pencil mustache and black eyebrows wearing a crisp butler uniform. His posture was posh, calm and professional- not a single wrinkle on his impeccable uniform or a hair out of place.

“Welcome home, Mistress Dahlia.” He greeted Dahlia with a respectful nod. Marcel noticed his British accent.

Then his eyes turned towards Marcel. They were grey blue and they sharp as a whip, shining with intelligence and intuition that belied his seemingly old age.

“I presume you are Master Marcel Dupain-Cheng?” he asked.

“Yes, pleasure to meet you, sir. Please, call me Marcel.” Marcel said amiably with a polite smile, extending his hand for a handshake.

The butler shook his hand with a firm grip that once again told Marcel that despite his old age, he was like Master Fu- he too had a hidden strength residing inside him.

“The pleasure is mine. Alfred Pennyworth, at your service.” Alfred said, placing a hand over his chest and bowing towards Marcel.

Marcel blushed, not used to anyone treating him in such a…formal manner.

“Does he have to bow?” he asked Dahlia.

“Why?” she asked.

He shrugged. “I mean, we already did a handshake. He doesn’t have to….y’know. I mean, not saying he’s rude and all just….not used to this.” he fumbled.

‘Humble and polite.’ Alfred noted with approval.

The old butler blinked when the young man held an opened box filled with macaroons before him.

“Macaroon?” he offered.

“You’re too kind, sir.” Alfred said, graciously accepting one of the small treats. He took a bite and although his face remained stoic, Dahlia could tell that he too was enamored by the masterpiece pastry.

“Master Bruce and the others are waiting to make your acquaintance in the living room.” Alfred said, letting them in.

Glancing back, she noticed Alfred give her a small nod, his lip quirked up and eyes shining with approval already.

Marcel’s breath was taken away as he stepped foot inside the manor. Instantly he was surrounded by Victorian furnishing from the walls to the portraits to the floors and dayum that is one huge-ass chandelier.

“I’m….definitely gonna get lost in here.” He said dazedly.

“Good thing you have a guide at hand.” Dahlia teased. Then she tugged his arm. “This way.”

Marcel let Dahlia guide him through hallway after hallway, passing one room after another. Marcel tried to keep up with Dahlia who was telling him what room contained what, when this thing was brought here, who built this or who brought up the idea to do so, where that room was located and the history of the manor from the very beginning in the Wayne clan to today’s present one-

Yeah, Marcel was lost.

“Am I going too fast for you?” Dahlia asked.

“You lost me at ‘this way’.” He admitted sheepishly.

She chuckled. “You wouldn’t be the first.”

Finally, they arrived at their destination. As they did, Marcel felt his heart beat against his ribcage like a rabid animal, rattling his entire body up to the tips of his fingers; his tongue and throat felt dry; he was acutely aware of his own pulse; the macaroon box threatened to crush in his grasp and his legs felt heavy as lead but as weak as jello.

“…..last chance.” Dahlia said, raising a hand to knock.

“Too far to turn back now….literally.” Marcel said, eyeing behind and….yeah, he’ll definitely get lost. For once, he wished Tikki left crumbs in his pockets.

“You know I’ll stand by you. Always, habibi.” Dahlia said, squeezing his hand.

Marcel smiled, his pulse calming down somewhat and his legs regaining more feeling. He placed a quick kiss on Dahlia’s lips.

“I know, _xiao feng_.” He said.

The doors opened and lo and behold, the whole Wayne family was there for him to see.

Marcel recognized Dick Grayson- the tour guide from Wayne Industries. Said boy gave him a bright smile and a friendly wave, his blue eyes twinkling.

There were two other boys with him who could easily pass off as his brothers- one looked more muscular, wearing a leather jacket with a white streak in his hair and green eyes while the other looked younger with bags under his bluebell eyes.

He also recognized two more figures in the room- the blonde woman who came to his rescue back at the Gotham Museum of Fashion and Selina Kyle.

The former looked like she was barely able to restrain her excitement while the latter gave him a knowing wink. Selina truly looked stunning in her spaghetti strap dress.

There was also an Asian woman with a stoic expression. Her eyes were as sharp as a hawk but she was as stealthy as a shadow. Nonetheless she gave him a small nod of acknowledgement.

Another girl was a redhead sitting in a wheelchair. She gave him an amiably smile and despite being wheelchair bound, Marcel could tell she was rather fit.

Then his eyes fell on the elephant in the room-Bruce Wayne.

Said man approached him, making Marcel suddenly feel very small.

He can see why Bruce Wayne had such a reputation as Gotham’s most eligible bachelor/playboy.

A chiseled square jaw, jet black hair as dark as night with piercing blue eyes and a tall fit body that would put any Olympic athlete to shame. Marcel’s willing to bet that even if anyone were dumb enough to actually try kidnapping Bruce Wayne for money, it certainly wouldn’t be an easy snatch and grab.

“You must be Marcel.” He said; his voice was charismatic and friendly but baritone, no doubt naturally able to gain attention and demand respect.

“And you must be Bruce Wayne. It’s a huge honour to meet you, sir.” Marcel said, his voice slightly awed as he shook Bruce’s hand.

He noted Bruce’s hands were rough and calloused, his grip strong and firm….martial arts too perhaps? He definitely worked out, that’s for sure.

Bruce chuckled. “Please, call me Bruce. No need to act so formal and uptight around your future father-in-law.”

Marcel’s face flushed red at that as did Dahlia’s.

“Father!” she hissed, glaring at him.

Bruce laughed. Deep down, he knew it was genuine. In all honesty….he honest to god never thought he’d actually live to see the day he would get to tease his daughter in front of her boyfriend. It warmed his heart and gave him a sense of normalcy that was so foreign yet enlightening.

“Come, please, have a seat.” Bruce invited.

Still red in the cheeks, Marcel took a seat. Dahlia sat down beside him, pointedly not looking at her father.

Actually now that they were together, Marcel noted that Dahlia shared her father’s hair. While her eyes were green whereas his were blue, there was no denying the similar intensity and intelligence they both held along with the same aura that naturally gained attention, carrying assertiveness and authority the moment they enter a room and make their presence known.

“I think introductions are in order.” Bruce said.

“Hi! I’m Stephanie Brown.” Stephanie jumped in first.

“Nice to meet you, Stephanie.” He said. “And….thanks. You know, for helping me back at the museum and all.” He added, his eyes showing a flash of hurt before it was covered.

At that, her face softened. “You’re welcome.” She told him gently, knowing all too well what he was talking about.

“I’m Jason. So, how’d Demon Spawn get hitched with you?” Jason asked.

“Todd!” Dahlia hissed, eyes narrowing at him.

“What?” he said with a too innocent look. Then he turned back to Marcel and his face turned grim. "Blink twice if you need help." he said seriously.

“Well, I guess it was her kindness that grew on me.” Marcel said. "And no, I'm good, thanks." he added.

Jason spluttered, his eyes widening.

“Her? Kind?” he asked, pointing at Dahlia as though Marcel said she grew two heads.

“Yeah?” Marcel said, confused to his reaction. “She was really nice to me. She even saved myself from a face plant on the floor when I tripped. I’m…kinda clumsy.” The last part was muttered more to himself than anything.

“I’m sorry but- guys are you all hearing this?” Jason asked, whipping his head around to stare at his siblings. “I’m tripping- it was the cookies, wasn’t it? Alfred finally spiked one of em to get back at me.”

“Um……………macaroon?” Marcel offered, the poor boy looking lost. He sent a pleading look towards Dahlia, urging her to explain the specimen he was facing known as her adopted brother.

“Father, if Todd cannot behave like a competent human being, I urge you to dismiss him back to his room.” Dahlia hissed under her breath so only her father could hear. ‘Or out of Gotham altogether.’ She sourly added.

“I’ll take one.” Dick said, grabbing a macaroon from the box and popping it into his mouth. His blue eyes widened as flavour exploded across his taste buds.

“Oh my god.” He moaned. “Guys, you have got to try one!”

Marcel almost yelped as more hands appeared, each one dipping into the box and extracting a macaroon to pop into their mouths- even Bruce managed to snag one and how he did it so nimbly, Marcel didn’t know.

“I can die happy right now.” Stephanie moaned as she enjoyed the sweet treat.

“Delicious.” Cass agreed.

“Looks like Alfred might finally be given a run for his money, eh Bruce?” Selina teased.

Bruce hummed in agreement. While he wasn’t one for sweets, even he couldn’t deny the pastry was delicious.

“I/Marcel baked them myself/himself.” Marcel and Dahlia both said, the former humble while the latter proud.

“You like baking?” Dick asked.

“Yeah. My parents own a bakery in Paris.” He replied.

“The Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie, correct?” Bruce pointed out.

“That’s the one.” Marcel said, surprised.

“You were the one who turned in that essay and as one of the head sponsors for your class trip, I take it upon myself to understand the bright students who earn the few chances to visit Gotham.” The man explained upon noticing his surprise.

“Ah…..” Marcel said, understanding. Looks like Bruce was more perceptive than the tabloids make him seem to be.

…..actually now that Marcel thought about it- Bruce Wayne looked nothing like the airheaded irresponsible carefree party boy. Even now he seemed like an intense serious man all things considered.

“Do you do sewing too?” Tim asked, his sharp eyes noticing the callouses on Marcel’s hands.

“Yes.” Marcel nodded. Then his eyes strayed towards Dick.

“You’re an acrobat, right?” he asked.

Dick blinked, surprised then smiled. “What gave it away?”

“Your hands are calloused and well, your last name is Grayson- just like the Flying Graysons.” Marcel recalled from when he was scrolling through info on Gotham.

Dick wasn’t surprised- he already knew Marcel was a sharp boy but still, he was impressed.

“Marcel personally tailors his own clothing and even does commissions.” Dahlia explained.

“Hey, wait a sec!” Stephanie said, snapping her fingers as she remembered something. “Didn’t Jagged Stone mention something about glasses?”

“It was you, wasn’t it? You’re the one who made those Eiffel Tower glasses.” Tim remembered as well, eyes shining with awe.

Marcel flushed from the sudden admiration and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“That was years ago.” He said.

“Yeah and you were, what? 14?” Jason snorted.

"Weren't you also in one of Clara Nightingale's music videos?" Barbara asked.

"I was just a dancer in the background, you wouldn't even notice me." Marcel said, steam almost hissing out of his ears now.

“You should give yourself more credit, Marcel. I’ve read your file and from what I’ve seen on paper and in person, you’re an accomplished student.” Bruce said, voice sincere without a hint of artificial politeness.

Marcel smiled, his insides turning fuzzy- cuz come on, _Bruce Wayne_ of all people was praising him!

Glancing at a watch on his wrist- a watch Marcel will bet costs as much as a whole wardrobe of clothes- Bruce addressed Dahlia.

“Dinner will be ready soon.” He said.

Dahlia nodded, rising up with the grace of a cat.

“I’ll see you at dinner, habibi.” She said, pecking Marcel on the cheek. Giving one last subtle glare at her siblings as a warning, she walked out of the room.

Then Bruce turned his attention back towards Marcel and as though a switch had been flipped, the intensity in the man’s presence somehow increased.

“What do you see in Dahlia, Marcel?” Bruce asked.

“How specific do you want me to be? She’s a sophisticated woman.” Marcel managed to say without stuttering.

“What is it you see in my daughter that makes you love her?” he asked.

“Her spirit.” Marcel replied without hesitation.

“Since day one, even before we were aware of our feelings for each other, she was there for me. I….was a bit rocky with my class and she was one of the few to offer me her friendship- offer me her trust and vice versa. She was always so calm and assertive, willing to look at the situation from all angles before coolly diffusing the problem.

“She didn’t just trust me- she respected me and understood me in a way not many can and I do so too. She’s shown me more support in the past few days than some people I’ve been with for years. She’s just so….capable, intelligent, determined, level-headed but kind, sweet, understanding and just…..amazing in general.” He sighed at the last part, a dreamy smile on her face. “Frankly, I don’t deserve a girl like her.”

Bruce studied the boy, taking in his fond affectionate smile, the dreamy loving look in his eye and his relaxed but sure posture. He glanced over at Cass, knowing she was a master at reading body language.

Said girl gave him a firm nod, her lips quirking up in approval.

So Marcel really did love his daughter.

“I know I don’t come from much. But I swear I will do everything I can to make sure your daughter is happy and taken care of….even though she’s capable of already doing the latter by herself.” Marcel couldn’t help but joke.

“Indeed she can.” Bruce agreed, voice bemused. “But something tells me with you around, it’ll be easier and better for all of us.”

“So you’re not gonna kick me out of Gotham?” Marcel found himself blurting out before he could stop himself. He flushed- this time out of embarrassment- and ducked his head.

Jason snickered while Barbara elbowed him, glaring at him for his lack of tact.

“You haven’t given me a valid reason to do so now, have you?” Bruce said smoothly.

“Of course- as in, I won’t ever give you a reason to since I won’t be doing anything illegal. I'm a law-abiding citizen and....yeah.” He fumbled.

“Besides breaking and enteri-ow!” Jason yelped as Barbara had enough and decided to pinch him.

“That’s getting old, Jason.” Barbara deadpanned.

“Now that the formal pleasantries are out of the way, I think it’s time for dinner, no?” Bruce said, rising up from his seat.

As if on cue, there was a knock on the door and Alfred appeared.

“Dinner is ready.” The British butler affirmed.

Bruce nodded and politely dismissed Alfred. Marcel noted that Bruce seemed to hold a mutual respect for his butler too, despite the latter’s seemingly inferior position in the household.

“Shall we?” Bruce asked, opening the door.

As they exited, Tim paused as Marcel brushed past him. Tilting his head, he squinted his eyes as he zeroed them in on the embroidery of autumn leaves on his blazer. Was it just his eyes confusing the patterns or did that look like a signature? Why did it look so familiar?

“Tim? You comin Timmy Boy?” Jason asked, noticing him standing there.

“Wha-oh. Yeah, I’m comin.” Tim said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. Sorry for leaving some of you hanging for a while but I've been busy lately. Between homework, projects, spending time with friend and family and the fact that I have ANOTHER goddamn exam next month, I may not be able to update as consistently but I'll try my best!  
> So yeah, I hope this chapter satisfied you all. Let me know what you think in the comments below and to those who have read chapter 19 involving Good Girl's design, there's still 2 days left to leave a suggestion! I also want to give a shout-out and thank Vanilla123catnezzer for the fanart they've sent me of their suggestion for Good Girl's design.


	22. Meeting My Girlfriend’s (Not) Normal Family; Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The family discovers the persona behind MDC; Marcel discovers Alfred's a BAMF.

The duck breast looked tender and juicy, the dressing of pomegranate-citrus glaze no doubt an experience for the taste buds.

Yet, Marcel still couldn’t find it in himself to be hungry for the meal.

“Is everything alright, Master Marcel?” he straightened at the British accented voice nearby and turned to see Alfred looking at him inquisitively.

“Is the meal not to your liking?” Alfred asked, noticing he’s barely touched his food.

“Wha- no, no, it’s fine. It’s delicious! I’m just…not used to eating fancy food.” He said.

But that wasn’t the truth.

Everytime Alfred was close by Marcel could just….. _feel_ something thrum from inside the butler. Now that he wasn’t so tense from the prospect of meeting the Waynes, he’s taken notice of it.

It was faint and old but there was no denying that that….feeling, that thrum of something originating from Alfred was similar to Master Fu’s which gobsmacked Marcel.

Does Alfred know Master Fu? His mentor never mentioned him to Marcel and Marcel’s positive that old age or not, Master Fu would _never_ forget such crucial information; much less not tell Marcel considering the fact that he’s his successor.

“If you like, I can prepare a dish more suited to your tastes.” Alfred offered.

“It’s fine!” Marcel replied a bit too hurriedly. “Uh- thank you for the meal!” he stumbled before giving him a smile too wide and a wave too wild.

‘Smooth, Mar. Reeeeeeal smooth.’ He can handle the Waynes but not their butler……wow.

Alfred just looked at him and the intensity of his stare did not calm his nerves in the slightest. It was like he was staring straight into Marcel’s soul- and he thought Bruce Wayne’s stare was intense!

Then Dahlia strode in and Marcel felt his breath taken away.

There she was, proudly wearing the outfit he made her- a cape blazer with a fern green interior and golden buttons, dahlia flowers in various shades of vibrant green embroidered on the base over the black halter neck jumpsuit that adorned her body as naturally as petals on a flower.

She strode into the room, proud as a tiger and shot him an alluring smile.

Is this what dying and going to heaven feels like? Man, he’s cheesy.

Jason whistled, Dick cooed at his youngest sister, Stephanie clapped, and Cass raised a brow while both of Tim’s brows rose.

“Didn’t know you had an outfit like that.” Tim remarked.

“And you would know the contents of my wardrobe now, wouldn’t you, Drake?” Dahlia said coolly.

“Bish, I know your shoe size and if I wanted to, I could calculate the size of your undergarments right here and now.” Tim deadpanned.

“Yeah Timmy, that last part wasn’t weird at all.” Jason groaned with a facepalm.

At least Tim had the audacity to look a bit ashamed at his lack of tact. Marcel tried not to dwell on it least hormones kick his mind to less than innocent places.

“Who designed it?” Dick asked, desperately trying to change the subject.

“Guess.” Dahlia teased.

Cass- always the one for action rather than words- walked towards her and began inspecting her attire with keen eyes. Her eyes wandered over the embroidery of the dahlia flowers. Narrowing her focus, she leaned closer, tilting her head somewhat.

“May I?” she asked.

“Sure.” Dahlia allowed.

Holding the fabric, Cass tilted it upside down and sure enough, looking close to one of the dahlia flowers from this angle, all of their keen eyes could vaguely make out what looked like a signature amongst the thread.

‘Oh boy…..’ Marcel thought, shrinking in his seat. For a moment, he contemplated making a dash for the maze of hallways in the mansion to find a place to teleport away.

“Wait a sec……” Tim slowly stood up from his seat and walked towards Dahlia methodically. “Is that……..”

He brought the fabric close to his face, hovering only an inch away from his nose.

And he saw the signature.

He _recognized_ the signature.

“MDC…..” he whispered in disbelief. “This is-”

“An MDC original.” Dahlia preened smugly.

Marcel didn’t even get the chance to count down the nanoseconds before Tim flipped.

“YOU HAVE A MDC ORIGINAL?!?!” Tim screeched so loud, Marcel was surprised the glass goblets on the dining table didn’t shatter.

“HOW IN THE NAME OF GOTHAM DO YOU HAVE A FU$KING MDC ORIGINAL?!” Tim asked, grasping Dahlia’s shoulders and shaking her back and forth as the unfairness of it all crashed down on him- he’s tried god knows how manu times to weasel his way into getting a commission from MDC himself, goddamn it!

“I have my connections.” Dahlia said breezily, extracting his hands from her shoulders and dusting herself off.

“But-how-” he struggled.

“Is it not obvious, Drake?” she raised her chin up haughtily and stared down at him from her nose. “I have the more superior connections compared to the fickle ones you grasp on your laptop.”

“You take that back- my connections can go to places yours can never dream of going!” Tim hissed.

Dahlia rolled her eyes. “You’re the detective, you try to connect the connection.”

Tim whipped back around to look at Marcel.

“You see this? This is the gremlin you picked for a future spouse.” He deadpanned.

“Drake, I’ll maim you.” Dahlia threatened lowly.

“Ooooh cat fight.” Selina said, leaning forward with amusement twinkling mischievously in her eyes.

“Dahlia, Tim, calm down, it’s just an outfit.” Marcel tried to intervene. “I mean, anyone can tailor an outfit.”

“That’s right! How do we know this is authentic?” Stephanie pointed out.

“Because I’ve personally met the designer you nincompoops.” Dahlia snapped.

Marcel’s jaw dropped and his eyes widened.

Dahlia’s eyes widened as well when she realized she’s taken a misstep and jumped too far.

“WHAT?!”

This time, Tim wasn’t the only one voicing that.

“You’ve met MDC?!” Stephanie asked, standing up and slamming her hands down on the table.

Bruce sighed. One day, the table was gonna have permanent indentations on it and his mother will be throwing a fit in heaven as his father and great grandfathers gaze down at him in disappointment alongside Alfred.

He glanced over at Marcel, noticing that although he was quite composed, he was fisting his pants and clearly his mind was thinking.

That was odd. Why would he be so pensive over that detail of all things?

The answer came to him as he recited the boy’s full name. Ah…..so that’s how it is.

“Marcel, do you know about……this………….” Tim’s voice trailed off, his expression morphing into a familiar one of pensiveness as he looked at Marcel from a different light.

“Wait… **M** arcel **D** upain- **C** heng…….” He repeated.

“Uh……………….” All eyes were on him now.

He was used to this. Moments like these where you had to make a choice. Situations where a course of action must be taken. Decisions made based on instinct.

“Surprise?” he said with a nervous grin and as though to add to the level of cringe, his course of action also included jazz hands.

He can think of a way to use a frickin spoon to defeat a supervillain but he can’t even try to lie his out of this without some form of cringe? Nice one, Red Beetle.

Tim stared.

Everyone else stared.

Dahlia stared at Marcel, face apologetic but eyes imploring him to _run and get the fu$k out of here now._

Bruce and Selina watched on, professional yet amused.

Marcel’s pretty sure he saw Alfred watching the scene before him the same way a sports spectator watches a basketball roll along the rim of a hoop.

Then Tim walked up to Marcel, gently but firmly planted his hands on his shoulders-

“As of today, you are a Wayne.”

And said that.

………………………………..wait, WHAT?!

“Excuse me?!” Marcel and Dahlia spluttered.

Tim just slid a piece of paper he seemed to magically pull out of thin air towards Marcel with a pen.

“Just sign this and as of today, you will be Marcel Wayne Dupain-Cheng.” Tim explained.

“You are not adopting him!” Dahlia snapped, storming over to them and snatching the paper and pen away.

There is no way hell and all that is holy on this planet that Marcel is joining her family as anything less than her lover.

“Why not?” to her horror, every single one of her siblings- even Cass- voiced that.

“I mean, dark hair, blue eyes, like I said before, we can make it work.” Dick pointed out.

“Marcel Wayne Dupain-Cheng. Has that…exotic sophistication to it.” Stephanie said.

“Cass! You seem to possess the only braincell shared amongst them, talk some sense into these fools!” Dahlia hissed.

“…..why not?” Cass- the traitor- asked with a shrug, seemingly okay with all of this.

“Ah, I love this family.” Jason sighed, propping his legs on top of the table.

“Jason, feet off the table.” Selina chided.

“Do I get a say in this?” Marcel asked. Before anyone could answer he continued. “I already have a loving mom and dad and I’m content with being Dahlia’s boyfriend instead of her brother……………man, that’d be weird.”

“Thank you.” Dahlia whispered. Whether she was saying that to Marcel or whatever deity that chose to give her a boyfriend with sufficient braincells, she didn’t know.

“Everyone, settle down.” Bruce said, deciding it was time to call for order. “I think we can discuss all of this civilly.”

Has Dahlia mentioned how proud she is to be the only one in this room blood-related to her father?

“I’ve heard of your work, Marcel and I myself am interested in requesting a commission.” Bruce said.

Marcel’s back straightened, his eyes widening. He leaned forward, slightly tense but undoubtedly willing to listen to his offer.

“As you know, the Wayne Gala is coming up soon.” Bruce said.

Marcel nodded. That had to be one of the hottest topic of fancy parties in Gotham……..he had an inkling of where this was going.

“How would you like to tailor the attire for my family and me? I understand it’s sudden and in Gotham of all places but I will personally see to it that you have all the equipment, tools and material needed to make these outfits. You’ll also be welcomed to come over to the manor to work on said attire whenever you wish so long as the product is completed before the deadline.” Bruce went on, steepling his fingers and leaning forward, looking Marcel in the eye.

He seemed every bit the successful experienced businessman he is.

Internally, Marcel was bouncing around with the potency of a bouncy ball strapped with rockets.

He was being commissioned by Bruce Wayne.

Bruce fu$king Wayne.

Not just him but his _whole family- the Waynes._

“I’d be honoured to.” Marcel said.

Bruce just smiled.

“Now then, enough drudgery, it’s time to eat. Food’s getting cold and dessert’s waiting.” He said, clapping his hands.

Everyone dug in and this time, chewing on the duck meat with the tang of pomegranate-citrus glaze, Marcel savoured the food wholeheartedly.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“I hope this isn’t too cramp for you.” Alfred said, opening the door.

Marcel stepped into the room that was bigger than his bedroom and gazed around. He perked up at the sight of an authentic vintage sewing machine.

“Does this still work?” Marcel asked.

Alfred hummed. “Yes but if you would prefer, we can provide you with a modern one to prevent any hiccups. Functioning it might be, old it is.”

“The older the classier.” Marcel said, patting it like a fond stray. “I can make it work. You just need the touch.”

“And you’re just the type to have said magic touch.” Alfred said but….was it just Marcel or was there a knowing tone to that posh voice?

Marcel looked at Alfred closely and noticed how the butler didn’t waver. He just stood there as though he was the one patiently waiting for Marcel to make the first move.

“………….soooo who was the last person in here?” he asked, trying to dispel the awkwardness.

“Me.” Alfred replied simply.

“Ah, I see…..” Marcel trailed off.

Alfred just closed the doors and calmly stood before Marcel once more, arms behind his back and posture professional.

“You can ask your friend to come out now.” Alfred told him, voice gentle and eyes…fond?

“Friend? What friend?” he asked, confused.

“The one hiding in the pocket I’m betting my knickers is hidden inside your blazer.” Alfred replied matter-of-factly.

“What?” Marcel stuttered, trying not to panic. “I don’t know what you’re-”

A blurr of red flew by and suddenly, Tikki was hovering in front of Alfred, her blue eyes searching his face.

Then recognition spread across her features.

Alfred smiled fondly as though he was reuniting with an old friend and….if Marcel’s suspicions were correct, that’s exactly the case.

“Hello, you must be Tikki.” Alfred said softly.

“You……you were the one from the war.” Tikki said slowly as she tried to retrace back to the right time.

“Yes. It’s alright if you don’t know; I don’t blame either of you for not recognizing me. In all honesty, I doubt many Guardians would remember me either since I’ve only wielded Duusu a handful of times.” He said.

“So you were a miraculous wielder.” Marcel breathed out in shocked awe, finding a newfound respect for the British butler before him.

“And you’re the current one. It’s an honour to meet you in person, Red Beetle.” Alfred said, his pencil moustache twitching a bit with his bemused smile.

“How? How did you know?” Marcel asked, curious more than suspicious.

“As you know, the Peacock Miraculous is the embodiment of Emotion. Despite my short ownership of it, I seemed to have an affinity with Duusu. Thus, even after giving it up, I noticed I became an empath of sorts. In short, I could sense the presence of another miraculous wielder.” Alfred explained.

“So that’s how you figured it out.” Marcel said, understanding. Master Fu did mention how the miraculous can still have lingering side effects on the wielder even after confiscation, subtle as they are.

“…………….you….won’t tell her, right?” he asked nervously.

“Goodness gracious, of course not.” Alfred instantly denied. “Master Marcel, trust me when I say I understand the severity of being a miraculous wielder as well as the secrets one must preserve.” He said seriously.

Marcel simply nodded, shoulders relaxing as the tension he was unaware of left him.

“……….does Mistress Dahlia know?” Alfred asked softly.

“No…..not yet.” Marcel muttered, his shoulders drooping, this time in a more negative sense.

“It’s not my place to say but I can tell you this- Mistress Dahlia is resilient. She’s might be more capable of embracing the concept of your world in a more tolerant mindset than you might expect of her.” Alfred hinted.

“I know….or so…everyone keeps telling me.” Marcel sighed.

Alfred’s gaze softened. So young….so full of hope and passion yet, already with such a burden. What a cruel place the world has become to youngsters like Marcel, Dahlia and so many other youthful souls who carry similar duties………

“I’ve known about Red Beetle for some time now. Despite my far from carefree life, I did what I could to keep tabs on you. Perhaps I was simply being an old man unwilling to let go of the excitement from his youth….but I was worried.

“I wasn’t worried about your worthiness. No, from the beginning I knew you had it in you….what terrified me was that that worthiness had to called to light so soon at such a young age. I assume you were barely older than 13 when you first took up the mantle.” Alfred said gravely.

“14 actually.” Marcel muttered.

“Forgive me, I didn’t know the legal age for ‘superheroing’ was 14 now.” Alfred deadpanned. “The point is…..” he placed a hand on his shoulder and even if Marcel wasn’t an empath, he felt the warmth radiating from Alfred, the care constantly present under his posh professionalism.

“You aren’t alone, Marcel. And as long as you’re here, regardless of your status with Mistress Dahlia, you can always come to me to talk to.” Alfred said gently.

For a moment, Marcel could’ve sworn Alfred was Master Fu’s long lost Gothamite brother or something.

Regardless, he smiled- genuinely and grateful and Alfred could see the tightening leashes of tension ebbing away from the young boy.

“Thank you, Alfred.” Marcel whispered.

“You’re welcome, Marcel.” Alfred said with his own rare smile, dropping any formal honorifics.

His loyalties always have been and always will be with the Waynes.

But regardless if he was a butler, his duties as a surrogate father/grandfather always have been and always will be his top priority to fulfil to the best of his heart.

And seeing this fine young man before him, he knows he’s fulfilled his duties.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, Alfred is the heart of the family, no caps.


	23. Meeting My Girlfriend’s (Not) Normal Family; Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcel discovers who his 'mother-in-law' is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Again, mentions of sexual harassment up ahead....and smut. ISTG THE SMUT DOESN'T GO TOO FAR AND IT ISN'T TOO GRAPHIC.  
> But seriously, don't read if it's potentially triggering.

“Come, habibi. I want to show you something.” Dahlia said, tugging Marcel along with her through the hallways.

Marcel followed, this time trying to keep track of the twists and turns they were taking. He wondered what Dahlia wanted to show him but alas, she was a master of stoicism as her body gave nothing away.

“The suspense is killing me. Come on, at least give me a hint.” He said, trying to get a rise out of her.

“That would ruin the surprise, would it not?” she replied.

“Not much of a surprise now that I know it’s a surprise.” He pointed out.

“But you don’t know the full details yet. Thus, angel, I still hold the full deck of cards.” Dahlia replied coolly.

“Aw, don’t be so cold~ You know you can trust me.” He said, draping his arms over her shoulders and her skin tingled when she felt his breath closer to her now.

“I trust you to trust me.” She replied, hoping he doesn’t notice how flustered she is under her arms.

“Alright, alright, lead the way.” He relented.

Soon, they arrived before another set of ornate doors. Dahlia pushed it open and they stepped in.

The smell of canvas and paint hit Marcel’s nostrils. Turning on the lights, he realised they were in a room filled to the brim with paintings. Some were framed intricately and nailed to the wall while some were left neatly stacked on the floor or leaned against something.

One painting after another filled the room and for a moment, Marcel could’ve sworn he was in an art gallery/museum rather than a mansion. Either way there was no denying the fact that each painting was a masterpiece that would no doubt fit right in with any museum/ gallery regardless of age.

Some were vibrant and bold while some were cool and dull. Some were portraits of people and landscapes while some were semi-real creations that were so intriguing, he’ll bet Nathaniel could admire it for hours on end. Some were abstract art whereas some were deliberate images painted to deliver a clear message.

There was a sliding door that separated another section in the room. Behind said sliding door was a worktable with numerous art supplies and tools ranging from numerous paints- oil paints, watercolour, acrylics- to brushes and scrapers, palettes and pieces of paper, boxes with pencils and colour pencils neatly arranged and possibly everything an artist would ever need. There was even a nearby sink with a cabinet on top filled with cups, basins and rags for cleaning up.

How all that could be arranged so immaculately was beyond Marcel, he couldn’t help but envy such neatness.

Along with the worktable, there were easels. Four of varying sizes were folded and propped against a wall and another with a blank canvas ready for the next painting was propped up.

“This is my place. One of my favourite rooms in the mansion, my own safe haven in a way.” Dahlia explained tenderly.

“You did all this?” Marcel asked in awe, gesturing to all the paintings.

“Yes.” Dahlia said with a modest nod.

“I didn’t know you were into art.” He remarked.

“I’m as good with a brush as I am with a sword.” She blurted out.

‘$hit!’ she internally cursed, realizing her slip up. “I pick up swordsmanship for sport.” She quickly added before Marcel could dwell on it.

“You mean fencing?” he asked.

“And kendo.” She added to sell the image.

“You must have quite the schedule.” He hummed.

‘You have no idea.’ She thought.

“So you do this as a hobby?” he asked.

“Yes and….over the years, it’s rather therapeutic for me. Sometimes whenever I can, I try to focus all of my emotions into a bucket and pour it out onto a canvas.” Dahlia explained.

It was then Marcel realized she was opening up about herself. Sharing with him a personal secret, a piece of her security and offering him a key into a safe haven she kept close to heart.

“I know what that’s like. Sometimes when I feel too much, I try to pour it out into my designs. In a way….it helps cuz if I’m not afraid to wear it, I should be alright with showing it and having them in the first place.” He empathized, recalling what he did after the Royal Flush Gang.

Dahlia gave a small smile, understanding his empathy and appreciating his genuine understanding.

Marcel looked around and his eyes fell on a painting in particular that caught his eye. He stepped towards it, his feet drawn to it as his eyes took it in with morbid fascination.

It was a painting depicting a wilted rose in a white jug with painted red birds on top of a battered ornate table ridden with feathers. In the background was a field of white chrysanthemums, their petals looking as pale as the moon due to the black sky looming above them, peppered with red ominous clouds that looked ready to rain blood.

Dahlia noticed Marcel staring at one of her paintings. Following his line of sight, she sucked a breath through her teeth when she realized which one had caught his interest.

She remembered that painting. How could she not? She’d poured her soul into that one.

A soul she had just regained after it had been robbed by the same person who gave life to her in the first place.

“…..did….something bad happen?” Marcel asked carefully. Staring at that painting alone made a sense of ominous foreboding crawl across his skin like spiders.

“……yes.” Dahlia whispered. “But it’s in the past now.”

Realizing this was a sore topic she doesn’t want to talk about, Marcel decided to move on.

The next painting he saw was a portrait that made him freeze.

It was a woman. She was beautiful, so very beautiful that any man would lust for her but as her green eyes coldly stared back at him, Marcel couldn’t help but pity anyone who’d give their heart to her.

Those eyes though….they were similar yet so very different……

The portrait depicted the woman sitting on a throne, a scimitar with an ornate gold hilt leaned against the chair within easy reach. Her wavy glossy brunette hair flowed down, framing her aristocratic face while her fine silk attire hugged her voluptuous body, showcasing the tanned skin underneath.

Staring at this woman, despite her being a mere portrait forged of paint on canvas rather than flesh and bone, Marcel couldn’t deny how eerily life-like it was.

Nor could he deny how much she resembled Dahlia.

But Dahlia’s skin while still tanned wasn’t as toned as hers; she gained her hair from her father and her eyes.

They weren’t like the woman’s.

Dahlia’s were different. They were caring and kind and intelligent but patient and understanding and above all, they were _humane._

“I see you’ve met my mother.” Dahlia said, voice soft and neutral but he could’ve sworn underneath it all, it was tinged with sadness.

“So…..she’s the one who…..?” Marcel hesitated, unsure of how to put it out tactfully.

He wasn’t all that ignorant to Gotham’s juicy gossips. One of the biggest celebrity mysteries many have tried to deduce was the true identity of Dahlia’s biological mother since it’s clearly not Selina.

“Yes.” She confirmed with a curt nod.

“…………..she doesn’t look anything like you.” He said.

“You sure about that?” Dahlia snorted.

“You’re humane.” Marcel said, looking at her with those bluebell eyes that shone with such earnest intensity, Dahlia couldn’t look away.

“This woman in the portrait….I know she isn’t flesh and bone but something tells me that even if she is, she isn’t like you, Dahlia. She isn’t as caring about the people she loves as you.” He said.

He didn’t know just how much those words meant.

Dahlia tried to swallow the lump in her throat as she struggled to fight back the scar that was festering again.

Her mother did care…..but like Marcel said, she clearly didn’t care as much as her. She would know. After all, her mother did care for her……..

But that didn’t stop her from killing her own daughter.

“Marcel, I…..I know that. I know I’m better than her but….trust me…” She looked away from him in shame as she felt the hands of her sins clutch her skin. “There’s a lot about me….a lot about my mother and I that you don’t know about.”

“Then help me learn. Help me understand. I can do that if you let me.” Marcel said softly, tenderly grasping her hand.

“I’m not a good person, angel.” Dahlia said with a sad smile.

“You’re wrong, _ange._ You’re a good person that had to suffer from bad things.” He corrected.

“What if I’m one of the bad things to happen in a good person’s life?” she asked, harsher than she intended as she yanked her hand away and turned around, hugging herself. “What if I’m _a_ bad thing?”

“Then you’re a bad thing trying to be a good person.” He said, gently turning her around to face him.

“Maybe you did bad things in the past. But it’s not our mistakes that define us, it’s the redemption shapes us into who we become.” Marcel said, caressing her cheek, giving her a smile. “And for what it’s worth, you’re a good person in my eyes. Always have been since I met you.”

A few people have told her similar things before- her father, her brothers and sisters, Alfred, her teammates and even the few she calls her friends.

But hearing it from Marcel finally disinfected the scar for good.

Emotions were surging through her once more. Too much at once, too many to keep track off and they left her dizzy at the same time, high on ecstasy. She felt tears ready to spill, a million words clogging her tied tongue-

She surged forward and kissed Marcel. She pressed her lips against his, her hands gripping his blazer like a lifeline.

Marcel’s eyes widened and they widened even further when he felt something nudge into his mouth. He was caught off guard by such an intimate move that his knees buckled and he lost his balance, falling down onto the floor.

His back hit the floor but he didn’t even register the pain as he was caught up in the passionate delirium he found himself in. Closing his eyes, he found himself returning Dahlia’s passion in earnest.

He’s kissed her before but this time….it was different. Back then those were snowflakes. Soft, tender, light, careful and they never lasted too long.

But this? This one was burning with passion and intimacy on another level. It was so much that once he was caught in it, he couldn’t get out.

And he realized he didn’t want to.

Dahlia nipped at his bottom lip and temporarily pulled away so both of them could catch their breath. She saw that his skin was flushed, making his freckles stand out like flakes of cherry blossom petals.

His bluebell eyes were hazy but alight with passion. Said passion reignited and suddenly their lips were once against pressed together with a slight groan. His hands trailed down her sides, caressing her curves before settling on her hips.

Dahlia felt her hands go down his vest, unbuttoning it so the garment won’t restrict her. Her hands slipped under his shirt and damn, those abs were justice.

Marcel however, froze when he felt hands pressing against his stomach. For a moment, he saw her wretched olive green eyes and horrendous brown hair saturated in so much flowery shampoo the smell made him nauseous.

With a gasp, he pulled away, his hands rising to her shoulders and pushing her away slightly.

Dahlia’s eyes widened in surprise at the separation. She blinked, unsure what happened-

Oh.

OH.

For a moment, they laid there, stock still. Their chest rose and fell in rhythm and they could still feel their hot breaths brush against one another and they panted the same air.

Then Dahlia scrambled away, shame flooding through her, burning her from the inside as its jaggedness scraped her raw.

God, she was a fool- how could she have done that?! She knew Marcel had been sexually harassed and of course he’d be traumatized yet she allowed her emotions and worse, her hormones override her train of thought; she allowed the intimacy to sweep away her iron self-control as though it was sand in face of a tsunami.

Fu$k, she probably just messed it all up.

“I........” for once, she couldn’t think of anything to say.

For once, she wanted to just run and hide.

“I……..” Marcel stuttered, his hands clenching and unclenching. Should he…reach out to her? Comfort her? _Merde_ , he didn’t mean to do that- he didn’t want her to think he was disgusted with her or that he’d been rejecting her-

“I….I didn’t mean to-” he stuttered.

“I crossed a line.” Dahlia said, turning around to face him. The least she could do is apologize to him, looking at him straight in the eye and being as straightforward and honest as possible.

“I….I’m sorry. I was just feeling….” What? Hormonal? Intimate? “I just….didn’t mean to cross a line. I shouldn’t have gone that far without your consent. You entrusted me that you have lines which shouldn’t be crossed but regardless, I still crossed it and....I’m sorry. I know that won’t undo what we did but I’m sorry.” She said.

“Wha- Dahlia, no. It’s- none of this is your fault- I………” Marcel sighed, running a finger through his hair.

Deep down, he knew Dahlia was right. He had been scared but he wasn’t scared of Dahlia, he was never scared of Dahlia. In fact, that moment of intimacy with Dahlia had been so….euphoric it almost felt dreamlike now.

It was Lila. Her hands had left scars on his skin and….they still festered. It wasn’t Dahlia’s fault- it was never hers to begin with.

“……………I’m not scared of you, Dahlia.” He said softly, taking her hand and grasping it firmly but gently. “And none of this is your fault. I……” he swallowed. “I want to….I love you, _ange_ and I want to be committed.”

“Marcel, you don’t have to.” Dahlia said.

“You’re right, I don’t. Because I _want_ to. Maybe I am a bit scared but that’s how life is. How can I live if I let fear stop me?” he went on.

“This is different-”

“Dahlia, I live in a city where people die and come back to life. I live in a city where emotions are a ticking time bomb we have to seal in a glass jar. I have a bunch of classmates who lack braincells.” Marcel said with a bittersweet smile. “Not to toot my horn but I think I’m pretty resilient.”

“……….you don’t have to forgive me out of obligation.” She said.

“It’s a good thing I’m not then. Next time….we do it with both our consent before we jump the gun, kay?” he said.

Dahlia just nodded and vowed that next time, she’ll protect Marcel till her last breath and push mountains with her bare hands to make him feel content and happy.

“……I’m scared too, honestly.” She admitted. “This is the first time I’ve ever gotten close to someone in such an intimate way.”

“Same here.” He admitted. Shuffling over, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Internally, Dahlia took that gesture as a sign that he’s honestly forgiven her if he’s willing to physically touch her like this in support.

“…….you know, I used to have a crush on Adrianne.” He confessed.

Dahlia’s head snapped towards him so fast, she almost got whiplash.

“What?!” she hissed.

Marcel rubbed the back of his neck as his skin flushed- this time from embarrassment.

“I was a kid back then! Besides….it was just a dumb highschool crush.” He sighed and shook at his head at the folly of his younger years. “God, I was just….cringey. I couldn’t even say ‘hi’ to her without stuttering, I was….kinda a bit of a creep honestly and well....” he shrugged. “It was shallow. Simple as that. Yeah, she was nice and pretty and kind and friendly but it was infatuation at best.”

“And now?” she asked warily.

“We’re rocky…..actually at this point, I’m not even sure if we can call each other friends anymore. You were there, you saw how far we’ve drifted.” He said sadly.

Dahlia just hummed, knowing it was much more complicated than that.

“….even if she didn’t reciprocate my crush, she was still my friend and….I valued it. I valued it when she that friend I used to know- the one that was kind and humble and friendly and well….seemingly so perfect but now…..now I’ve seen who she really is.

“She isn’t just nice- she’s naïve. She’s naïve and…in a way, she’s immature. She doesn’t want to grow up and see the real world, she doesn’t want to accept that classmates or not, not everyone can get along. She not timid or polite, she’s scared and….as harsh as it is, spineless, to rock the boat when the situation calls for it.

“And worse…..she betrayed me.” He said, choking out the last part.

Dahlia said nothing, just giving him a patient look and letting him do it at his own pace.

“She knew, Dahlia. She knew from the beginning all along that Lila was a liar and….” He shook his head. “I don’t know what’s worse- the fact that she gave me an empty promise that we’re in this together or the fact that she’s deluded herself into thinking she still is ‘together’ with me against this.

“So…..needless to say my crush on her went kaput after that.” He concluded.

“And how do you feel about her still?” Dahlia asked, trying to keep her tone calm and even.

“A part of me wants to believe there’s some good in her left. That there’s a chance for her, that she’s just misguided but……frankly, I can never trust her again. Not like before.” He replied, voice sad but resigned.

“You don’t deserve someone like her.” Dahlia sniffed disdainly.

“And I don’t deserve someone like you.” Marcel said, nuzzling against her soft black hair.

“Oh hush, that should be my line.” She teased.

They both laughed and in that moment, Dahlia knew for certain that their love was far from over.

It was still far from fully blossoming and she’s okay with that.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“It’s been a wonderful evening, Bruce. Thank you for everything.” Marcel said, giving Bruce’s hand a firm shake as he bids them all farewell.

“No thanks needed, Marcel. Just know that you’re welcomed back here anytime you wish.” Bruce said warmly.

“If I do I’ll let you know so you can have a guide ready. With all due respect, your manor’s still a maze to me.” Marcel said sheepishly.

Bruce chuckled. “I’ll make sure preparations are ready before your next visit.” He said. Whether he was reciprocating Marcel’s lame joke or referring to his commissions, Marcel didn’t know.

“For what it’s worth, Marcel, you’re a good man.” Bruce said, tone serious but sincere. “And for now, you’re good enough for my daughter.”

“Thanks.” Marcel said, those simple words of approval removing the weight on his chest. “I swear I’ll do everything I can to make her happy.”

“You better or you’ll have three brothers, two sisters, one BFF and one butler plotting to kill you in your sleep.” Bruce said.

Marcel couldn’t even find it in himself to weakly fake laugh….because deep down, a part of him knew Bruce was being dead serious.

And he’s be lying if he said he didn’t almost piss himself.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Dahlia found another stack of adoption papers hidden under the dining table- it was insultingly easy to find and the purple pen writing even more so.

She found another dozen or so folded inside Dick’s secret stash of cereal and even found one somehow tucked into one of his crazy tight spandex uniforms. He even had one rolled up and tucked into one of his escrima sticks!

Another stash was discovered hidden in the shelf in Jason’s room. She had to scour through the pages of every book to find them all. He even had Marcel’s ‘origin story’ prepared!

One of them was him being an amnesiac teenager they somehow found and picked up like some stray; another depicting him as the godson from one of Alfred’s old MI6 friends; another was him being a runaway teen that wanted to join the circus but hopped on the wrong train and another being a ludicrous detailed explanation on how he’s a long lost distant relative of Selina.

She had to give him kudos for creativity.

Tim- the bastard- had his stored digitally but a virus wiped them clean. He even slipped some paper ones inside the casing of his laptop- which she deftly disassembled and reassembled to obtain. After scouring through his files, she found eight more.

Thankfully Cass didn’t bother. Sure she could read, write and talk like a normal person now but she’s never been one to bother herself with paperwork. Dahlia will accept small graces.

She tried to ignore the pang of betrayal she felt when she discovered a piece of adoption paper in one of Pennyworth’s immaculate coats.

Later on, Bruce wisely decided not to question the remains of a fire in the garden.

He also chose to ignore Stephanie and Tim’s cries of frustration when their toilets were, for some reason, clogged with paper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm no psychologist but considering Marcel's been sexually harassed, I'm willing to bet he can get triggered when people touch him intimately in a....y'know way. So it'd wouldn't make sense if he just smoothly went along with the flow all things considered. But in the event that I wrote this wrong, I would like to apologize for my ignorance.  
> Also, ngl the painting of the wilted flower was something that just popped into my brain and I went along with it from there. It was a painting Dahlia did not long after the whole Heretic kills her and she came back fiasco to vent.


	24. Country Girl (Somehow) In Paris?!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dali was always lecturing to her about the importance of recon. Of familiarizing yourself with the battlefield.  
> So surely it wouldn't hurt to sneak over to Paris for a quick peek, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a Daminette/Maribat fic but I also want there to be development between Chris and Joan. I hope I didn't rush it in this chapter.

Amber Ruche panted, trying to limp as fast as his bruised and cut up leg would allow him.

 _Merde, merde, merde_ \- how could he have been so careless?!

He wasted his Venom on a decoy and because of that he was forced to retreat, leaving the team one fighter down. _Bon sang,_ he was down to three minutes!

“HELP!”

_MERDE!_

He whipped his around, eyes widening in horror as he saw a building collapse towards a little girl- crap, with his busted leg he won’t make it in time-

A body surged forward, tackling both of them out of the way. He limped over as fast as he could, biting his lip as his leg protested, fresh blood seeping out from reopened cuts.

“Are you two alright?!” he asked.

“Fine.” One coughed-

Wait….that was English and…..she sounded familiar.

His stomach dropped down to the soles of his feet as the brave civilian slowly stood up, revealing her towering height.

Her wavy black hair had fallen out of its ponytail, her spectacles were askew and her clothes were a mess but there was no denying who she was.

Joan.

She was here.

In Paris.

In the middle of a fu$king akuma attack when she should be back in _Metropolis or Smallville, what the fu$k, how the hell did she get here, what was she doing here?!_

“What the fu$k are you doing here, country girl?!”

* * *

A few hours ago……..

Metal crumpled under her hands like paper, tyres screeched and headlights shattered as Supergirl stopped the car filled with bank robbers with her bare hands.

“It’s the Girl Scout!” one of them yelled.

“I can see that dumb@$$!” the leader snapped.

“Language.” Supergirl tutted.

She didn’t even flinch when the bullets rained down on her, standing firm and allowing them to waste their ammo.

Deciding they’ve had their fun, she used her heat vision, turning their guns into glowing red-hot pokers. Dropping them, she rushed forward and quickly subdued them.

She had just finished tying them up like a tressed turkey when the cops came.

“Thanks for the help, Supergirl. We can take it from here.” One of them said with a respectful tip of his hat.

“Just doing my job, chief.” She said cheerfully.

As she flew off, her superhearing couldn’t help but pick up the tail ends from one of the officers conversation.

“Just like her pops.” One of them said while glancing at the defeated bank robbers.

Supergirl felt her heart flutter with pride. Ha! She told dad she could handle herself while he took a day off to catch up with Ma and Pa back in Smallville.

Hovering amongst the cloud, she kept her ears peeled and was surprised when to find a lull amongst crime related noise. Other than the occasional petty one, they were already being handled by the authorities.

And like her dad said, she can’t help everyone. She has to give the down-to-earth hard working authorities a chance to actually do their jobs.

Satisfied, she leisurely flew through the sky, wondering what she should do now that patrol was over.

Go home? Nah, boooooring. Mom wouldn’t be home yet anyways.

Gotham? Nah, Dali might be annoyed. Plus, she might be doing mushy stuff with Marcel and she didn’t want to intrude.

Chris?

Wait……….did that seriously just pop into her head? Her face flushed at that thought.

Taking out her phone- her mom tells her not to do that but hey, she isn’t around right now- she pressed on Chris’s number, finger hovering over it uncertainly.

‘Wanna hang out again?’ she deleted that before she sent it.

‘How ya doin?’ that was deleted too.

‘Check out this cute cat meme.’ ……..deleted once more.

‘How’s Paris?’

That…..made her hesitate. From what she’s heard, him and his class were still gonna be in Gotham for a while. With a sigh, she deleted that one too.

Paris............Paris, Chris’s home. Paris, the city that’s turned into a warzone plagued by evil magic butterflies.

Paris, the same place Dali and her family will be going for their next big mission soon.

………………………………hm………Dali does always emphasize how crucial it is to familiarize yourself with a battlefield and scout out the area beforehand…..

Surely it wouldn’t hurt to fly over and take a peek? She was still on solo patrol after all.

‘Dad might be pissed. You told him you’d watch over _Metropolis, not Paris_.’ A voice reminded her.

‘But he’s also telling you that you’re a big girl now. You can make your own decisions.’ Another chimed in.

She decided to listen to the latter voice, the one she’s beginning to frequent more, she noted.

She blamed Dali for that.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Not wanting to cause a scene either ways, she decided it would be better to investigate as a civilian. Besides, according to Dali, the superhero community was kept in the dark over the whole fiasco which could potentially mean a political hand was playing in this.

So better to play it low than to risk a diplomatic crisis.

Tying her hair in a low ponytail, wearing her hairband and donning her spectacles, she didn’t waste time letting her civilian persona come out in full view. Wearing a cardigan over her t-shirt and jeans with cowboy boots, she easily blended in.

One of the perks of being tall- most assume you’re older than your original age. Thus, she can easily pass off as a college student if she wants to.

Walking through the streets of Paris…..it was….peaceful, actually.

She expected to see barred windows, wary eyes following her as she passed by, suspicious gazes from behind closed doors, an alarm system of sorts but all things considered, everything looked….normal.

There was a man sitting on a bench feeding the pigeons; a woman pushing a baby in a stroller; a couple romantically strolling hand in hand; three people jogging- nothing seemed out of the ordinary at all.

‘No wonder this was kept under wraps.’ She realized. If the citizens were really this normalized despite the circumstances, it’s no wonder there hasn’t been such a big fuss for the past three years.

The reporter side she got from her parents encouraged her to take out her phone and snap a few pictures- cuz come on, she was still in Paris! And who knows? Maybe she’ll be able to find something as evidence to what was really going on.

As she strolled across the bridge on the Seine, she noticed the numerous locks attached on the walls, forming a solid gold mass as thick as the wall underneath it. They were called ‘love locks’ right?

A young girl giggled as her boyfriend lovingly kissed her cheek, the two of them clasping a love lock together.

Joan blushed. For a brief moment….just one window of a moment, she wondered what it’d be like to do this. To do something as strange yet symbolic as attaching a love lock together with a lover in a declaration of their bond.

She wondered what it’d be like to do so with Chri-

“You there!”

She yelped, jumping a bit. Whipping her head around, she saw a stout ice cream vendor pointing at her from behind his cart.

“Yes you. The one with the dazzling blue eyes.” He said.

Blushing, she walked over nonetheless. As she did, she realized that maybe it wouldn’t hurt to buy herself a treat. Ice cream melting in her tongue sounds like an enticing thought right now.

As though reading her mind, the vendor was already preparing one of her.

“Soft blonde hair like lemon custard, bright blue eyes like blue moon and a heart as sweet as honey.” He hummed, preparing her three scoops of ice cream with a cherry on top. Smiling, he gave it to her.

“Uh……” she hasn’t even given her order yet!

“Oh uh…. _merci_.” she fumbled, accepting it. She dug her pockets for some cash but much to her surprise, he declined it.

“André says it’s on the house.” He said warmly.

“Wha- but monsieur, please, I insist.” She said.

“And I insist you enjoy your ice cream and allow the magic to guide your heart to your beloved.” He said.

“Beloved?!” she spluttered. Okay, maybe Parisians did have a few screws loose.

“I’m sorry but you’re mistaken- how would you know?” she couldn’t help but ask defensively. “Are you a psychic?”

“One doesn’t need to be psychic to accept fate. Now eat your ice cream and I cross my heart your love will materialize.” He said.

Joan just shrugged. Maybe the guy was just eccentric like this to attract more customers. Bidding him farewell, she decided to focus on her ice cream.

As she felt the delectable treat melt on her tongue, she tried not to linger on the flavors.

_“Soft blonde hair like lemon custard, bright blue eyes like blue moon and a heart as sweet as honey.”_

Blonde hair, blue eyes, a sweet heart….he couldn’t mean Chris, right? It was just coincidence and lucky guessing, right?

Right?!

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Joan sighed, slumping down on the bench. Her feet were tired from mindlessly walking around Paris by now.

Scrolling through the pictures she’s taken, the only thing to take note of as a small victory were the pictures she’d taken of akuma shelters. After finding a library and searching up online, she even went to a few akuma attack sites though it was pointless considering the fact that Miraculous Cure cleans everything up anyways.

Is this what all recon was like? If so, how Dali does this regularly without getting bored, she’ll never know.

She gazed up, admiring the steel work of the Eiffel Tower. To think, three years ago, an evil mime actually cleaved it in half while a Zatanna wannabe tried to make it disappear-

Then she heard it.

Eyes widening, she shot up to her feet. Tuning her hearing, she heard it. Something- _someone_ was coming towards-

She tucked and rolled just as an explosion went off, dust and debris flying everywhere. She felt herself get thrown away, her cardigan reduced to tatters.

Coughing, she quickly rose to her feet. Instincts kicked in as she became acutely aware of the rising panic amongst the once ‘normal’ citizens as the harsh sudden reality of the turn of events sunk in.

Was this what an akuma attack was like?

Using her x-ray vision, she looked through the smoke and saw someone pinned down under a piece of debris.

“Hang on!” she called, running towards them. Using her strength, she easily lifted the debris off them.

“Go! Go! Go!” she said, doing crowd control and guiding all the nearby citizens away.

“Hey! You!” someone grabbed her arm, a police officer. “We’ll take it from here, get to a shelter!” he ordered before shoving her to join the crowd.

Shoving her way out of the crowd, she relied on her superhearing, running as fast as she could to save other civilians caught in the crossfire, trapped under debris or buildings. She would’ve changed into Supergirl but with so many people in distress she didn’t want to waste a second.

Hearing a whistling through the air, she snapped her head up to see a frickin missile heading her way!

People screamed and scrambled for cover, some desperately trying to pull the slow injured along. Thinking fast- and praying the panic will make everyone not notice- she took her spectacles off and used her heat vision to detonate the missile while it was in mid-air.

She hurriedly placed her spectacles back on and scrambled towards the next cry for help she picked up.

“Viperion! Get the civilians!”

Pausing, she turned around and using her telescopic vision, she saw four figures- they must be the heroes of Paris- engage the villain- an ‘akuma’- in combat.

“I am Poilu!” the akuma roared. “And I will fulfil my duties!”

Poilu was a hulking intimidating figure of a man covered head to toe in military green armour, towering almost three stories tall and armed to the teeth like a walking military fortress.

“A soldier’s duty is to protect!” Red Beetle snapped.

“A soldier’s duty is to his family!” Poilu snapped back, anguish ringing louder than the firepower he was raining down on them.

“He won’t have a family if he blows em up with him!” Amber snarled as he took cover with Red Beetle.

“We have to lure him away before that happens. Suzaku!” Red Beetle ordered.

“ _Hai!”_ the dragon-themed heroine said. “Lightning dragon!”

While the Paris superheroes dealt with the akuma, Joan carefully transversed towards a nearby building. She warily eyed nearby artillery shells, aware they could still detonate.

“Help! Please!” her heart twisted when she heard that voice, the voice of a child.

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna get you out!” she called.

Grabbing the debris, she tossed it aside and pulled out the young girl. Running as fast as she could, luck was on her side as she bumped into a woman who seemed to be her mother.

Handing her over to her mother, Joan rushed off before they could thank her.

Taking out her phone, she hit record. It was time to let the reporter side of her family genes shine.

“Right now, I’m live, in the middle of an akuma attack. The name of the akuma is Poilu………”

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“Amber?” Red Beetle asked.

“I’m in position.” Amber confirmed.

Glancing out, he saw Suzaku using her lightning form to goad Poilu towards the open area where Amber could use Venom to paralyze him. After that, Red Beetle would trip him, allowing him to collapse and trap himself on the crumbling foundation where they can snatch the akumatized object and end this.

The bigger they are, the harder they fall after all.

“Now!” they both said.

Leaping out from his position, he reared his trompo back and activated his power.

“Venom!” he cried, burying the tip into Poilu’s back-

Only for the armour to burst off towards him.

“Wha-AGH!” he cried in pain as the armour slammed into him, the weapons still connected to the piece of heavy metal burying into his skin.

He fell down onto the asphalt painfully but it was numbed compared to the pressure on his left leg.

Hissing, he dragged his leg out from under it. The moment he moved, another cry burst out. Gritting his teeth, he worked his fingers under the piece of metal – which was twice the size of his body and twenty times the weight- and lifted it off his leg.

Throwing it aside, he accessed the damage.

He could still feel the pain which was a good sign. He could move it so no bones were broken. Just throbbing bruises and cuts.

“Amber!” Red Beetled called.

“I’m fine!” he said. “Focus on the akuma! I’ll recharge and rendezvous.”

Pushing himself up, he began to painfully limp away as fast as he could. His left leg protesting each step, the cuts leaving dots of red in its wake.

He heard cracking like the sound that emits when one crumbles crackers. Whippin his head around, he saw a section of a building about to collapse on top of a man who was cradling an injured woman.

Whipping his trompo out, he smashed the debris into small harmless pieces.

“GO!” he yelled at them, pointing in the direction of a nearby akuma shelter he’s memorized by heart.

Nodding his thanks, he picked up the woman and ran towards it. Chris hoped the shelter had the adequate medical supplies to treat the injured woman.

Beep.

Four minutes left.

He heard another cry for help. Using his trompo to maneuveur, he swung down and pulled a civilian away from a piece of metal debris that nearly landed on top of them.

Beep.

Three minutes left.

He had been prepared to waste another minute to save another life.

He hadn’t been prepared to spend it having an existential crisis over the fact that one life he’d hoped would never be here was in fact right here, right now, caught in the crossfire of this clusterfu$k.

* * *

“What the fu$k are you doing here, country girl?!”

“Me?!” Joan spluttered. “I’m helping!”

He hauled her up along with the girl. “Help by getting to a goddamn shelter! We don’t need a martyr right now!” he snapped.

While the little girl ran off, Joan didn’t just yet. Subconsciously, she activated her x-ray vision-

A pair of blue eyes stared back.

She froze. It was like a bucket of ice had been dumped on her, freezing her feet to the spot. It spread across her heart, solidifying it and sending a dreaded chill throughout her being.

“Chri-”

She heard it like the droning of mosquitoes.

She surged forward and tackled him down, her taller larger body shielding him against the onslaught of bullets.

Amber lied there, dazed, mostly because one, the back of his head just hit the asphalt rather painfully and two, he had a girl’s body over him.

A girl who was his friend. A friend who had just shielded him from a hail of bullets-

“Joan!” he cried in horror, pushing her off, pushing away her lifeless body riddled with bullets, agonizingly bleeding to death-

“Are you okay?!”

…………………for the second time in the shortest span of time in his life, Amber had another existential crisis.

His mouth hung open in shock as he looked over Joan. Her shirt was in tatters but she as _fine_ , there wasn’t a single drop of blood, not a scratch, hell, not even a bruise marred her skin.

“How…” he choked out.

“Uh….” Joan stuttered, looking like a deer in headlights.

Beep.

Barely one minute left-

For the second time that day, Joan threw herself over Chris just as he felt himself detransform.

“Don’t look!” he said desperately.

“Not looking!” Joan eeped, screwing her eyes shut. “What’s wrong?”

“I need to recharge to transform again.” He explained.

“I-I can carry you to a secluded space to do it. Cover your face.” She said.

“I can get there my-”

“Oh quit the macho act, city boy. Your leg is busted!” she snapped.

Chris froze.

 _City boy_ , she called him _city boy_ -

‘Calm down!’ he scolded himself before he could descend into _another_ existential crisis. ‘Maybe that’s what she calls all city boys. That doesn’t mean anything.’

Digging into his pockets, he found his sunglasses and a handkerchief. Those will have to do.

“Okay, you can see now.” He said.

Opening her eyes, she saw that he now wore a pair of sunglasses and a handkerchief tied around his mouth like a bandana.

“Hold on.” She said, scooping him up.

“What else can I do?” he said dryly.

“Good to see your humour isn’t out of the fight yet.” She quipped as she ran.

“Stop there.” He said, pointing at the nearest alleyway.

Nodding, she gently set him down.

“Thanks. Now get to a shelter. You’ve done enough.” He said.

“Uh, I think I’ll just….” She gestured to the end of the alley. “Stick with you. I’ll keep guard while you recharge and I won’t look! Just in case, y’know.”

His eyes narrowed under the sunglasses. Even without x-ray vision, Joan could tell he wasn’t happy.

“Listen here-” he growled.

“No, you listen!” she cut him off, looming over him with her taller height. “The outside of this alley is a battle zone! You wanna ditch a civilian to navigate that by herself? The safest place to be right now is with you.”

“I’m not a babysitter!” he snapped back. “I can’t fight and protect you at the same time. Please, stop being so pigheaded and save yourself!”

“What about you?” she asked and this time he could see the concern radiating off her, worry lines spreading across her usually cheerful features.

“This isn’t my first rodeo.” He grunted.

“This ain’t my first one either.” She said.

“………………………………..” Chris turned away as he weighed his options.

Chris wouldn’t call himself religious…..but for once, he was praying he was wrong.

“Then why don’t you bring out the big ‘S’ and cape already?” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

But Joan heard him.

Her eyes widened, those blue orbs became a window that Chris instantly saw through as clear as day, confirming what he always knew in the corner of his mind.

“Oh my god…..” he breathed out. “You’re really-”

“Shut up and transform!” Joan snapped before turning around and running off.

“Wait!” Chris called, reaching out-

A gust of wind, a blurr.

She was gone.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The dog tag was crushed in his hand and the akuma fluttered out.

The akuma was purified, the city and its citizens were fixed and the victim sobbed but it wasn’t tears of relief.

“I served….my country…for 5 years.” He choked out. “I carried every order…completed every mission until one of em put me out of commission for good.” He gestured to his prosthetic leg.

“I did what I could but my wife….” Another sob choked out. “When she needed them most, they wouldn’t give her the treatment.”

Their hearts clenched in sympathy for him. He was just like them- a soldier. A fighter with a loved one worth fighting for.

Red Beetle knelt down beside him so he was eye level with the distraught man.

“Take me to her.” Red Beetle said.

“What can you do?” he scoffed.

“I can heal her.”

He looked at him, eyes cynical but there was a spark of hope behind them. Was he…..was he serious? Could he really do it?

“What’s your name?” Red Beetle asked.

“Pierre.” He said.

“Well Pierre, I can help your wife if you let me.” He offered.

“…………follow me.” Pierre grunted. To hell with it, he has nothing to lose.

“Give me your address, I’ll meet you there.” Red Beetle said, his miraculous beeping.

Recharging later, he arrived at the address Pierre gave him. Stepping inside, he saw his wife lying in bed. Her skin was pale, eyes sunken from exhaustion and cheekbones prominent, making her look like a skeleton.

Stepping forward, he closed his eyes, remembering what Fu taught him.

Pierre watched as his hand glowed the same red pink he always sees when the cure was cast.

Closing his eyes in concentration, he waved his hands over his wife’s body. The glow basked over her skin like sunlight and like plants under the sun, he watched as her skin gradually regained colour, her eyes once sunken and screw shut marred with pained lines loosened and relaxed in tranquility, her cheeks became fuller and rounder.

Then the glow faded and lying right there was his wife. His beautiful, beautiful wife alive and better than he’s seen her for months. Her chest rose and fell steadily without pain as though she were simply sleeping.

And like awaking from a slumber, her eyes slowly opened.

“Pierre?” she croaked.

He rushed forward and embraced her, basking in his wife’s warmth.

“You’re fine now, mon cheri.” He choked out. “I’m so so sorry.”

“Sssh, it’s okay. It’s okay. We’re together, alive and well now.” She said.

Sniffling, he turned around towards Parisian’s hero.

“Thank you.” He said, voice choking with ounces of gratitude.

“You’re welcome.” Red Beetle said with a smile before leaving the reunited couple.

He was tired. Every bone in his body was laden with fatigue.

But seeing two lovers have their happily ever after made his heart lighter than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey readers. First off, I hope you enjoyed the chapter and again, I apologize if I'm rushing Chris and Joan's development compared to Dahlia and Marcel's. Pls let me know what you think about that in the comments.  
> Poilu means is an informal term for a French World War I infantryman. I'm sorry if this chapter was a bit rushed or messy, especially the ending but the part where Marcel healed Pierre's wife is part of the plot in the future.  
> Secondly, I would like to clarify some facts about Joan.  
> After reading the comics, I learned that Jon (canon) actually grew up in Hamilton and that his grandparents (Clark's parents) were already gone by then. However, I ended up getting it mixed up with Phil Co.'s Earth 27 version of him. So to make a few things clear and easier, I'll be using elements from both.  
> In my fic, Clark's parents are still alive and Joan grew up in Kansas, helping her now older grandparents. She did however, attend school in Hamilton when she was younger. Currently, she's attending her education in Metropolis and splitting her time with the Titans.


	25. (Please) Call Me, Beep Me If There’s Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The humble country girl and the mayor's son have a heart-to-heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi readers. This might be my last update in a while as I have exams coming up soon. Thus, I hope you guys won't mind waiting for a while. Sorry for the delay. But again, thank you for all your support and kudos!

The bruises were healed, the cuts were sealed without leaving any scarring and the blood stains disappeared. His leg was fine.

His heart was not.

Joan was Supergirl.

Joan, the country girl; the sweet cheerful kind patient beautiful country girl he had been steadily developing a crush on was _Supergirl._

“Amber?” Red Beetle said, snapping him out of his daze. “Are you o-”

“Let’s go back.” He snapped, harsher than he intended. “Let’s just get back to Gotham before $hit hits the fan.”

He has never been gladder to be back in his hotel room in Gotham.

He’s never been happier to say hello to his bed…………..

He’s never hated his mind more than right now as he lied there, staring at the ceiling blankly.

He was exhausted. Even with the cure he could still feel the lingering fatigue nestled in the bones and the slight weight on his eyelids. He wanted, no, _needed_ sleep right now or he knows from experience that he’ll regret it later on.

But he couldn’t.

Joan was Supergirl.

He tried not to think about it but it all kept adding up. The hair, the eyes, the personality and attitude if you looked close enough, the height, the spunk, the bravery and selflessness, the strength, the speed- how else could she be in Gotham and Paris in such short time?- the invulnerability- as if she’s _that_ lucky to have avoid all the bullets.

Joan was Supergirl.

And she might know who she is too.

‘She has x-ray vision, what if she peeked under my mask?’ he fretted. ‘But it’s magic, Pollen would’ve made sure to mask me…..right? Right?!’

“Pollen.” He called, sitting up.

“Yes, my king?” Pollen asked warily.

“Did she see me? Did she…did she see under my mask?” he asked, his fists gripping the bed sheet in a bone-white grasp.

“……………….yes.” Pollen confessed. “For a second, yes but I instantly covered it afterwards.”

“………………………fu$k.” he hissed. “Fu$k, fu$k, how could she still see?!”

“It was my fault.” She admitted.

“You _let_ her see?!” Chris gasped, betrayed.

“My king, with all due respect, she’s no ordinary girl now, is she?” she pointed out. Truth be told, yes, she had been careless, caught off guard by the sudden appearance of the lady her king fancied but really, she may be cordial with everyone but she was far from stupid in terms of romance.

And Aphrodite forbid he ends up in a love square. She's already seen where that made the Ladybug and Black Cat end up.

“So?! I’m no superhero geek but Superhero 101 is secret identities!” he snapped.

“And yet, you already know Joan’s.” she shot back.

“I-I….I………..” Chris slumped, defeated. Groaning, he ran a hand through his hair knowing he was trapped in a catch-22 dilemma.

“Fu$k.” he hissed but with less heat and more frustration. “What do I do now?”

“Talk to her.” Pollen advised. “You literally have her number.”

“Oh suuuure. ‘Hey Joan, I just found out you’re Supergirl. Would you mind also keeping my superhero identity a secret? Pretty please with a cherry on top?’ That’s ridiculous, utterly ridiculous!” he huffed.

“To say such a thing would be ridiculous. But if not talking, then what other method do you propose? Or do you plan on running away from it?” Pollen asked, a hint of a challenge in the last part.

Chris just sat there, blue eyes glazed over, pensive......should he....could he? Did any of them have a right to do so at this point considering the mutual borders they've already crossed, even if it was unintentional?

Then slowly, he took out his phone and scrolled through his contacts.

* * *

“YOU DID _WHAT?!”_ Dahlia screeched at her.

“I was doing recon!” Joan defended.

“You did not have the authority to do so of your own accord!” Dahlia snapped at her.

“That’s rich coming from a vigilante!” Joan snapped back.

“You could’ve ruined the whole mission before it even began!” her best friend snapped.

“And I didn’t.” Joan grounded out, trying to rein in her temper. If there’s anything she’s learned in the past years from working with Dahlia, it’s that ascending things to a shouting match or worse, an actual fistfight, would only waste their time and energy.

“I didn’t go there as Supergirl, I went there as Joan. I was just another civilian face.” She explained.

“So you didn’t take out the cape?” Dahlia asked, her anger quelling somewhat.

“You’re not the only one who knows a thing or two about inconspicuous snooping.” Joan said smugly.

“……how bad was it?” Dahlia asked.

“See for yourself.” Joan said, passing Dahlia her phone.

Just as Dahlia grabbed it however, the phone rang. Grabbing it back, Joan felt a lump form in her throat when she saw the contact. Her grip tightened on her phone and had it not been for the reinforced casing, she's positive it would've crushed in her hands.

Chris.

It was Chris.

“I gotta go.” She said, stuffing her phone into her pocket and getting up to leave.

“Hey, where are you-”

“Dad found out.” She lied. “He’s uh…kinda pissed.”

“Oh.” Dahlia said, relaxing. “Better go home before he grounds you then.”

For once, Joan would prefer that over what she was about to face.

* * *

Chris stared at his phone, his eyes unflinching against the harsh light of the screen. At this point, he’s pretty sure he hasn’t blinked to the point his eyes were turning as red as a vampire’s.

He’s already called her cell twice. One time she outright declined his call and the second time she left him to voicemail. After the second time, he’d given up and managed to snag some sleep before consciousness decided to be a b!tch and wake him up again.

So here he was, sitting on his bed and staring at his phone…..god, he must really look pathetic.

It was 11 PM right now. Sabrina wasn’t around, opting to join the class to watch a movie leaving him alone in the room.

“Third time’s the charm.” He mumbled, reaching forward to grab his phone.

There was a knock on his window.

Whipping his head around and almost getting whiplash, the first thing he saw was the colours of red and blue outside his window-

Oh.

OH.

“Can I come in?” Supergirl- _Joan_ \- asked, voice timid but polite.

Swallowing his nerves, he walked over and silently opened the window for her.

“Thanks.” She said softly.

“What do you want?” he asked, voice curt.

She winced. Despite her namesake as the ‘Girl of Steel’, she looked ready to break right now.

Chris internally winced, feeling like the jerk he was three years ago. But _bon sang_ , he was never the best at this touchy feely subjects. Now more than ever he wished Marcel could be here to back him up lest he screw this up more than he already has.

“I’m sorry for peeking under your mask. I didn’t mean to intrude on your privacy, it’s….kinda a subconscious thing for me to do.” She said, tone contrite.

“I thought you’d understand Superhero 101 better than me since you’ve been at this longer than me.” He huffed.

“I’m younger than you y’know.” She pointed out.

“……..what?” he asked.

“I’m….a year and a half younger than you, actually.” She explained.

“………….WHAT?!” he said.

She shrugged. “One of the perks of being tall.” She said coolly, evidently used to people mistaking her age. “But I am in the same grade as you.” She added.

“…..oh.” he said dumbly, not knowing what else to say.

Silence fell over them. It was thick and heavy like honey but lacked any sweetness. Instead it nauseated him more than anything. It made everything feel heavy and stiff, difficult to move on. It was overbearing and it felt like it was drowning him.

And Chris hated it when the situation develops to this stage.

So he decided to move on in his way because he’ll be damned if he lets fate or whatever do it for him.

“This is ridiculous, utterly ridiculous.” He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Look.” He said. “I know your secret, you know mine.”

“You don’t spill mine, I don’t spill yours.” She said, catching on.

“Exactly.” He agreed.

“……………………………..um…..” she twirled a lock of her wavy black hair, cheeks turning pink and she turned away.

Chris felt his heart flutter because damn, seeing Supergirl- seeing Joan like this was cute.

“Are we…..still friends?” she asked, voice quiet.

“………………..is that seriously the second biggest thing on your mind right now?” he asked.

“As big as the whole secret identity thing honestly.” She admitted.

“…………do you……” Chris licked his suddenly dry lips. “Do you still want to be friends?”

Because _he_ wanted that. He wanted them to keep doing this, to keep strengthening their bond and trust, gradually day by day at their own consented pace. He....he found himself wanting this more than anything in his life for the past three years.

“Yes.” She replied almost instantly. “Yes, Chris I….I still like you just the way you are.”

Even without her superhearing, she could feel her heart beating faster. She realized that for once, she simply wanted this because it made _her_ happy, because it made Chris happy. Simple as that. It was selfish yet already she was addicted to it like a butterfly to nectar.

She heard Chris's heart thump faster than hers, his face turning a deeper shade of red.

“As a friend!” she quickly added, her own face turning as red as her cape. “I mean, I would love to still be your friend. Your close friend in both personas, y’know?”

“Having that ‘S’ on my side would definitely be gracious.” He admitted. “But….” He frowned.

“But?” she asked, stepping closer, closing the gap between them until they were inches apart, allowing him to notice the sparkles in her eyes, the wavy strands framing her face, the lithe muscles on her arms but the beauty on her warm friendly presence.

Chris swallowed, hoping she couldn’t hear how fast his heart was thumping right now.

“One condition. You can’t just fly over to Paris like you did last time.” He said sternly, trying to push aside the butterflies in his stomach.

“Like Batman with Gotham?” she asked.

“Like Batman with Gotham.” He repeated seriously.

“I’m not a damsel in distress. I can help.” She said firmly.

“You’re not invulnerable either. Can magic hurt you?” he pointed out.

“…..depends.” she admitted.

“That’s a yes. Listen, the last thing we need is for there to be a magically enhanced akumatized Supergirl rampaging through Paris.” He said.

She bristled a bit but for a moment, Chris saw a flash in her eyes.

A flash of vulnerability.

“Bold of you to assume I’ll let myself get akumatized.” She said.

“Bold of you to assume you won’t. Joan, if myself and everyone on my team can get akumatized, what makes you an exception?” he asked.

She said nothing. She knew that compared to Robin, she’s always been the emotional kind. The one to wear her heart on her sleeve. For once, she wished her emotions could be as quelled as hers.

She blinked when she felt a pair of arms wrap around her. Her heart thumped harder when she realized it was Chris.

“I don’t want you to get hurt.” He said softly.

“I……” she felt herself choke.

He doesn’t want _her_ to get hurt? What about _him_? Does he even know the extent of his injuries? Does he know how much she's seen- how much she already knows?

“I don’t want you to get hurt either.” She said softly.

“It’s part of the package.” Chris said, separating but holding both her hands. “Joan, I chose to do this…..I _have_ to do this. Please, I’m asking you as a friend to trust me and let me keep doing this.”

He looked at her, his eyes bright blue like the blue moon ice cream and his blonde hair reminding her of the lemon custard ice cream.

_“And I insist you enjoy your ice cream and allow the magic to guide your heart to your beloved.” He said._

_“Beloved?!” she spluttered._

_“I’m sorry but you’re mistaken- how would you know? Are you a psychic?”_

_“One doesn’t need to be psychic to accept fate. Now eat your ice cream and I cross my heart your love will materialize.” He said._

…..ice cream vendors in Paris were psychics, who would’ve thought?

“Please.” Chris said, squeezing her hands.

“….okay.” she said. Then she leaned forward, her forehead bumping his. “I trust you.”

Chris froze as her forehead touched his. He felt a warm spread from the tips of his hair to his toes. He closed his eyes and immersed himself into it.

Joan closed her eyes and when she took a deep breath, she caught a whiff of flowers and honey.

Realizing how close she was to Chris- and great Rao, how intimate it was- she quickly pulled away and stepped back, her hands slipping out of his grip.

Chris ignored the pang of disappointment in his heart.

“Here. This is for you.” Joan said, giving him a….watch?

Confused, he accepted it nonetheless and noted that it had the Shield ‘S’ logo theme to it.

“If you need me, just press this button.” She instructed, pointing to a small button on the corner.

“Is this a communicator?” he asked, turning it around, admiring it.

“A signal. Whenever you’re in trouble, if you ever need me when the chips are down.” She placed her hand over his, closing his hand around the watch. “Call me.”

“Beep me.” Chris joked.

“You’re such a dork!” she laughed. And Chris found himself laughing too, any lingering tension dissipating in the air as their laughs resonated in their place.

“Thanks, country girl.” He said softly.

“Thank you, city boy...for trusting me.” She said.

“Door’s that way.” He said, nodding towards the door.

But when he turned around, she was gone. Rushing over to his window, he saw her hovering outside.

She waved goodbye and even from where he was, he could see the dazzling smile she gave him, making the city lights behind her look inferior in comparison.

He waved back.

“Goodbye, Joan.” He said.

And even though he could barely see the red and blue of her outfit, he knew she heard him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts on Chris and Joan's development? Ideas for more development? Fluff ideas? Wholesome ideas? Thoughts in general?  
> Let me know what you think in the comments!


	26. (Not) A Chapter; My New Username

Hi readers. I know this seems redundant but I would like to clarify a few things.   
First off, some.....stuff has happened on my end. I won't give all the details but I can now kiss my finals goodbye as we are now stuck in quarantine........ _again._ The point is, hopefully once I get past my writer's block and get my creative writing juices flowing again, I can update ASAP. So please, bear with me and wait for a little while longer, kay?

Secondly, yes, it's still me, LiteratureChronos1412 but I've decided to change my username to BlueAthena as it's less of a mouthful. So the credits of this fic along with others belong to me.

That's all I wanted to say. To everyone across the globe reading this, stay safe, stay sane and most importantly, stay calm and diligently follow the SOPs implemented in your respective areas. Hopefully we can push through this together.

Bye! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ


	27. Someone’s Got A (Huge-ass) Secret; Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While working on the Wayne's commissions, Marcel discovers there's more to his girlfriend's family than he ever thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WRITER'S BLOCK IS A B!TCH. HNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNG.  
> Fingers crossed, I managed to get over it. I apologize for keeping readers waiting. I hope this chapter does not disappoint. I also pray that I am not rushing the progress of this story too fast but I don't want to procrastinate the plot any further than necessary.  
> Enjoy!

Marcel stifled a yawn, rubbing his eyes which were gradually growing heavier by the minute. Beside him, the bags filled to the brim with all the materials he needed jostled slightly as the limo went over a bump in the road.

“Master Marcel, pardon me but if you’re already exhausted, I must insist you get some much-needed rest. Your health takes first priority.” Alfred said from the driver’s seat.

“’M fine.” He muttered.

“If I had a nickel for every time I heard that, I would amass a fortune rivalling Master Bruce’s.” Alfred replied dryly.

Marcel looked out the window. Truth be told, the only thing keeping him going was stubbornness and the lingering effects of the special 'energy drink' he made, the latter of which was wearing off.

Although he was considered a prodigy of sorts in the Art of Healing- what with his natural affinity combined with the progress he's accomplished in such a short amount of time compared to the other Guardians- he was far from immune to any backlashes. That meant going as far to bringing a person back from the brink of death was a surefire way of pushing himself to pure fatigue, prodigy or not.

“I appreciate the concern but really, I’m fine. Once I start to work I’ll be back on my feet.” Marcel reassured him.

Alfred sigh. Stubbornness. No doubt Marcel would fit right in with the rest of the boys.

“Very well then. I shall take your word for it.” He said and thankfully left it at that.

“Oh yeah.” Marcel said, straightening as he remembered something. “I wanna return this.”

Rummaging through his pocket, he pulled out the cheque Bruce had given to him before this endeavour. Said cheques had so many zeroes on it, his soul nearly left his body the moment he laid eyes on it.

“About that.” Alfred stopped at a red light. “Master Bruce has insisted you keep the change.”

“WHAT?!” Marcel squeaked, his voice rising a pitch. “Bu-this-I-I can’t!”

“Unfortunately, that is not my decision to make.” The butler shrugged, uncaring. “I am simply the messenger.”

Marcel slumped back in his seat, too tired to argue. He already did enough haggling back at the fabric store.

And he knew how to pick his battles.

Alfred nodded in satisfaction when he saw the boy philosophically accept his rebuke.

There’s no doubt about it, he would fit in with the boys.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“Welcome ba- do you need help with that?” Dahlia deadpanned when she saw her boyfriend try to carry the entire load himself.

“Wha-no, no! I can manage!” Marcel said, giving her a smile as he tried to manoeuvre past her.

“Angel, we may be your clients but that’s all the more reason we must show mutual cooperation and that includes helping you with simple tasks such as carrying your load.” Dahlia chided as she snatched a bag out of his hand before he could protest.

Gods and above, he was an idiot that put too much burden on himself.

He was her idiot but still, that made it all the more inexcusable.

“Thanks.” Marcel said as she helped him place it in the room.

“Don’t mention it.” She said.

Dusting his hands off, he gave her an apologetic smile.

“Sorry but you’re gonna have to leave.” He said.

“You do realize you’re standing on my property?” she told him haughtily, placing her hands on her hips.

“Technically it’s your father’s property.” He shot back, cheekily imitating her pose.

“Which makes it my birth right as I am his heir.” She rebuked.

“Well, your father hired me. Thus, you are also _my_ client. Hate to break it to ya, but I gotta keep it professional.” He said, spreading his hands out in a ‘what can you do’ gesture.

Dahlia pouted. “You’re no fun.”

“I’ll make it up to you, kay?” he said. “I promise.”

“Alright.” She conceded. Walking forward, she tenderly pecked his cheek. “Don’t work yourself too hard, habibi.”

“I’ll try to keep that in mind _xiao feng_.” He replied.

The door closed, leaving Marcel alone in the room with designs to sketch, fabric to be measured, cut and sewn, muslin mock-ups to prepare, motivation pumping high with creative juices flowing freely.

Rolling his sleeves up, he took out his sketchbook and pencil box filled with every stationary he’d need.

Settling himself onto the ornate chair by the table, he flipped to a fresh new page and got to work.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Marcel snorted, sitting ramrod straight and blinking dazedly as he took in his surroundings- which were definitely not his hotel room, how-

Oh………..right, Wayne Manor, commissions.

There was a knock on the door.

“Come in.” he yawned.

“Yo.” The door opened and Dick popped in. “Just wanted to check in to see……” he trailed off and suddenly, his cheeks puffed outwards as he tried to hold in his laughter.

“What? What’s so funny?” Marcel asked.

“Your…. your face!” Dick snickered.

Swiping a hand across his face, it came away charcoal grey like his pencil lead.

He groaned and thumped his head against the table, nearly sending his color pencils off the edge.

* * *

Alright, day two now.

He’s already shown Bruce and Selina the design concepts alongside illustrations. Each of his children have also selected the designs they’re most comfortable with.

Well……all of them except Dahlia.

He wanted to surprise her. He wanted to pour his heart and soul into the creation he was meticulously putting together for her, to show her just how much she meant to him.

Surprisingly and thankfully, all of them agreed to keep their lips sealed about the matter.

Which brings him to the next phase.

Putting together the mock-up.

…………………he hasn’t even started measuring yet and he was already questioning his life choices.

“What was I thinking?” he groaned, collapsing onto the ornate chair as he stared at every piece of muslin dominating the entire floor.

Every. Massive. Piece.

Running a hand through his hair, he glanced over at Tikki and Kaalki, the two kwamis watching him from atop pincushions like beanbags.

“Welp, time to get to work.” He said.

Fast forward three hours later and he was ready to stab himself with the sewing scissors he had at hand.

His eyes were burning needles; his arms were cramping; blisters and small cuts littered his fingers and his back…. oh kwami help his back, it was as stiff as plywood.

He was too young to have a back aching this bad.

But! It wasn’t for naught.

Smiling tiredly in satisfaction, he was pleased to see every piece he cut out so far was what he aimed for, down to a T.

He just had a few more to go.

* * *

Sitting down, he stretched his arms high above his head, satisfying pops like firecrackers emitting from his back.

Day three and thankfully, he was almost done with measuring and cutting the pieces. Already, he was halfway through one muslin mock-up.

There was a knock and this time, Dahlia’s face peeked in.

“Hey, what happened to professionalism?” Marcel playfully chided. Surreptitiously, he made sure his sketchbook and other pieces of paper with illustrations was out of sight.

“Oh, hush you killjoy.” Dahlia rolled her eyes. Sauntering over, her face softened. It was then Marcel saw the cup of tea in her hand.

“Here. It’s jasmine.” She said.

“Thanks.” He said, graciously accepting the warm cup. Taking a sip, the warm drink rejuvenated him.

“Would you like to join me for a stroll in the garden?” she asked.

“Sorry, gotta work.” He said apologetically.

“You’re on break right now. Come on, angel. You won’t do anyone good if you run yourself ragged.” She said.

Gently, she took his hands into hers, bringing both of their attention towards the numerous plasters covering his fingers.

“……………….I….guess a 10 minutes break wouldn’t hurt.” He conceded.

And so that was how he found himself strolling through the gardens with Dahlia. The garden was beautiful, the grass was mowed and a proper lush green, not a single weed in sight and all the flowers bloomed prosperously.

“Pennyworth and I planted those.” She said, nodding towards a flower bed with dahlia flowers.

She smiled fondly, recalling it as one of the first bonding moments she had shared with the butler she’s come to see as a grandfather when she was a little girl.

“You like gardening too?” Marcel asked.

“I’ve always had a soft spot for nature and wildlife.” She admitted.

“I like gardening too. Hey- I should show you the mini garden I have on my balcony back in Paris.” He said.

“I’d love to see it in person someday.” She said.

Oh, if only she knew she would be doing just that soon.

As they walked, Marcel turned around and paused. Was…..that………

Sure enough, barely peeking out from the collar of her shirt was what looked like a cut.

“Are you okay? You’ve got a cut on your…..” he asked, gesturing to the area.

“Oh.” She subtly adjusted her collar. “It’s nothing.” Then her expression turned bashful. “Accidentally had one too many cocktails and fell down.”

“I didn’t take you as someone who drinks and you're underage.” Marcel said carefully.

“Once in a blue moon. It was an accident, I swear! Girl’s gotta live a little.” She said.

She was smooth, Marcel will admit that.

But smoothness could never make up for thickness. And he could see through it like glass.

* * *

Day five. By now, the conversation he had with Dahlia in the garden was the last thing on his mind.

Marcel scowled, glaring at the uncooperative mock-up that hung on the mannequin in the wrong way _again._

And this was his third time already.

His third. Bloody. Failure.

Deep breaths…in….out…..calm down……breathe in….breathe out…remember what Master Fu taught him……….

Oh screw it.

“WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS?!?!” he screeched at the mock-up as though he expected it to reply.

Releasing a sound that was either a groan or a hiss or a growl or all three, an incorrigible noise torn out of his throat from pure frustration.

Giving up, he slumped down onto the floor. He lied there and decided he might as well let the earth slowly retake him.

There was a knock on the door…..a pause…then a voice, awkward but familiar came through.

“Marcel? Are you okay?” Oh, it was Tim.

“Peachy, _monsieur_. I feel gucci.” He deadpanned.

On the bright side, at the end of the day, he bonded with Tim over a cup- well…. _cups_ really- of coffee and vibing mutually; both of them utterly done with life and business.

* * *

“I did it…..” Marcel breathed, in awe of himself as he stared at the muslin mock-up that was finally, _finally_ perfect.

“I actually did it….” He repeated, a bit dazed but a wide smile stretching from ear to ear.

The mock-up clung onto the mannequin obediently, without a single crease or wrinkle marring the surface. The fabric cooperated to form the pattern he conjured in mind and not a single piece’s length looked uneven.

Whooping, he did a little dance on the spot.

“IN YOUR FACE!” he yelled triumphantly, jabbing a finger at the mock-up.

………………………okay, he definitely needs a break if he wanted to spare his sanity.

“Congratulations, Marcel!” Tikki said, giving him a proud smile.

“That’s one hurdle down.” Kaalki agreed.

“And plenty more to go.” He sighed.

“Okay big guy, break time.” Tikki said firmly, grabbing the measuring tape from his hand while Kaalki helped pick up the needles.

“No argument there.” He agreed.

His stomach grumbled, the sip of water he took doing nothing to satisfy its needs. Rummaging through his messenger bag yielded no results either since Tikki already ate all the cookies.

“Sorry.” She said sheepishly.

“It’s okay.” He waved off. “………you think it’d be rude of me to go to the kitchen to grab a snack?”

“Pennyworth did say you were allowed to do so if you please. Or you can save yourself the trouble and call for him.” Kaalki pointed out.

“I think I’ll go with the former.” Marcel said, walking towards the door. “I’ll be back in a sec.”

With that said, he walked out to venture towards the kitchen.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

In hindsight he should’ve thought this through more………. a lot more.

Because he was lost.

‘Wait, haven’t I seen that painting before? Or was it another? Wait, was that vase there?’ his mind spun as he tried and so far, failed at retracing his steps.

‘Should I call for help?’ then he paused when he realized how ridiculous that could be; not to mention embarrassing.

Then he realized that he could simply text Dahlia. He ad no qualms about asking her to help guide him out of this maze of hallways.

He stuck his hand into his pocket-

Only to feel nothing but fabric, his fingers grasping empty air.

“What the-” he turned every pocket inside out, only to yield no results.

Taking a deep breath, he resisted the urge to bash his face against the wall, lest he sent one of the priceless portraits hung on it clattering down.

He left his phone in his bag. Said bag was back in the sewing room which he has absolutely _no idea_ how to backtrack to.

“Ok, ok…calm down…. okay, no biggie.” He told himself. ‘Come on man, you’re Red Beetle. You’ve dealt with worse crap than being lost inside a fancy manor.’

With that in mind, he walked on. The manor can’t have too many hallways. Some of them are bound to bring him back to where he began.

He decided to let his instincts lead the way. Years later and he still wasn’t confident in a lot of things but his instincts were an exception.

He paused as he passed by a door. Then he felt like slapping himself for not thinking of it sooner.

He could just knock on the door to see if anyone was inside and if there was, he could simply ask them for directions.

Finally having a proper plan in mind, he knocked on the door.

“Hello? Anyone inside?” he called.

Silence.

He rapped his knuckles against the door again.

“Hello?” he asked.

Opening the door, he was surprised to face no resistance. Upon entering, he found himself in what looked like the main study.

Books neatly lined the shelves, all the tables were wiped, the carpet vacuumed and the ticking of a grandfather clock against the wall permeated the isolated room.

He turned around, realizing it was pointless to gawk at the room- not to mention an invasion of privacy- but started when he heard a screech.

Whipping his head into the room, he blinked, baffled at what he saw.

There was something… _inside_ the grandfather clock. Black and panicking, hysterically flapping its leathery wings inside the confines of the clock was a bat.

How in kwami’s name did a bat get in there?

His bafflement made way for pity when he thought of how terrified the poor creature must be to be trapped in there.

“Hang on, little guy. I’ll try to get you out.” He said.

Marcel ran his fingers along the clock, trying to look for a gap to pry it open. At the same time, he was hesitant. Clearly this was a family antique of sorts and no doubt priceless.

With a yelp at the sudden lack of resistance, the glass panel swung open.

The bat screeched, finally spreading its wings and flying out. Marcel ducked, barely dodging as it flew past him.

It flew straight into the door and Marcel winced at the impact. Okay, he didn’t think this through either.

Running towards the nearest window, he opened it. Perhaps by luck or the off chance that bats weren’t as blind as people thought, the bat flew out through the window.

“Well….that’ over with.” He said, closing the window.

Walking towards the grandfather clock, he was about to close the glass panel but paused.

Leaning closer, he narrowed his eyes at the clock face, the two hands dutifully ticking away. Something was…...off with this clock.

Exhaling, it was then he noticed the fingerprints on the clockface. That’s odd. Who would go through the trouble of actually touching it? Shouldn’t it be spotless like every other piece of furnishing in the manor? Surely Alfred would never allow something like this to pass?

His finger hovered over it as it traced the pattern………does someone toy with the hands in the clock? Why? If it was supposed to be a prank, it seemed pretty lame to be honest.

Logically he should close the panel and leave the room. He had no more business here, he was trespassing and snooping around in places he shouldn’t, he was still lost and he still had mock-ups to complete.

Yet…..his instincts were warring inside his mind to override that logic.

……………. well like he said before, his instincts have never failed him. He’d be a hypocrite to turn back on his own word.

Before he could second-guess himself any further, he carefully adjusted the hands of the clock, following the smudge of fingerprints.

10……..4……….8

10:48.

He stumbled back as the clock shifted sideways under his hands. It slid away to reveal a staircase leading deep….deep down into unknown depths masked by darkness.

“Whoa.” He whispered.

A secret entrance hidden in the main study? What, was Bruce a Scooby-Doo fan?

He glanced behind him, paranoid that any moment, the door would open and someone would show up to discover his little escapade.

No one came.

Belatedly, he realized he couldn’t walk away even if he wanted to. Not anymore. No way will his conscience let him sleep at night unless he gets to the bottom of this.

Looking back at that day, he’ll realize that he’s already taken a step too far to return the moment he laid eyes on the innocuous antique grandfather clock.

Keeping a hand close to the wall, he warily descended the steps. He felt his nerves tingle on edge as the light behind his back slowly faded, as though the darkness was swallowing it.

He squinted and saw a light up ahead. Quickening his pace, he almost stumbled when the light became more evident, temporarily blinding him.

Blinking, he gazed down-

It was the first sight he’d lay his eyes upon as another chapter of his life opened.

“ _Oh mon dieu_ ….” He breathed, the pure shock of it hit him like a tidal wave, spinning his mind like a typhoon and leaving him lightheaded.

A giant t-rex was displayed there in mid-roar, its jaw left open to reveal the rows of sharp teeth.

A giant playing card was hung, the joker face smiling maniacally. Beside it was a giant penny, standing there, bronze and sheening.

On one platform, numerous cars- Batmobiles, his shocked mind managed to somehow supply- were parked. Each one of them gleaming a menacing black, the boosters more than simple aesthetic, the engines brimming with horsepower that could put any vehicle to shame. There were also some motorcycles with the occasional red sheen- Robin’s vehicle, he’ll bet.

There were also cases, each of them containing a variation of uniforms. There was no visible mannequin so how they were kept standing upright so naturally like that, he didn’t know.

He also saw what had to be the base of operations. A chair was settled in front of numerous screens, the keyboard as wide as a screen itself. Every piece of technology was so advanced, it had to be leagues ahead of any super computer out on the market. If Max was here, he’d be flipping out.

And there were bats.

Lots of bats.

They were there on the ceiling, the symbol was displayed on the screens, the darkness of their form was incorporated in almost everything here-

Holy shit.

Holy fu$king shit.

He was in the Batcave.

 _The_ Batcave.

The Batcave which belonged to the Bat Family.

The Batcave which was located right smack under Wayne Manor.

The Batcave was which located right here, _in his girlfriend’s home-_

Oh god…………… _oh god-_

He felt his legs moving ahead of his mind, already slowly backing up the stairs as his mind swirled too fast, nearly sending him to his knees as the pieces connected at rapid speed, one to another like a newton’s cradle.

“Master Bruce? Are you down there-oh.”

Whipping his head around so fast he nearly sent it flying off his shoulders, he saw Alfred standing there.

The butler’s usually stoic face looked surprised for once.

Except he seemed more surprised over seeing _Marcel_ there rather than the frickin Batcave was right there in front of his eyes, under the manor he served.

“Master Marcel, I….see you’ve discovered our little secret.” Alfred said, already composing himself.

Marcel felt like laughing his ass off and not in a good way.

 _Little_ secret? Understatement of the century and he’s a magical boy.

“Yes, I admit it.” Alfred looked him straight in the eye. “I am Batman.”

..............................what the fu-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is the progress too rushed? I know in the recent chapter I literally just did another huge-ass reveal between Chris and Joan but I didn't want to drag the plot surrounding the two mains for too long. Let me know what you think in the comments below!  
> Furthermore, I hope everyone is doing their best to stay safe, calm and sane during these hard times. Fingers crossed, my writer's block will wear off and I can get back to updating this fic shortly. If you guys have any ideas for fluff/filler chapters, feel free to express them! I'm open to suggestions. That's all, ciao!


	28. Someone’s Got A (Huge-ass) Secret; Part 2

“…………yes, and I’m Superman’s long-lost son.” Marcel deadpanned.

Nice try Alfred. He’ll give him kudos for effort.

Despite everything, Alfred’s mouth twitched up in amusement, eyes twinkling.

“Just once I’d like someone to believe that.” He replied.

Marcel laughed.

His laugh echoed in the cavernous Batcave, resonating back to make him feel smaller than ever as his world spun too fast for him to grasp.

Yup, he was losing his $hit. No cap.

“So when was she gonna tell me? The honeymoon?” Marcel asked, shaking his head.

“Pennyworth?”

Well _merde_ , speak of the devil and she shall appear.

Dahlia was always a woman of action. She would act first, never wait to react.

On the off chance that she has to do the latter, she never failed to execute it as flawlessly as possible. She would plan three steps ahead, her blade would be focused yet flexible and she would not hesitate.

Yet, standing by the stairs, seeing Marcel, her boyfriend, the first true love of her life standing there amongst the sacrilegious grounds of her family’s legacy-

She………. froze.

She didn’t know what to do and that prospect terrified her as much as Marcel discovering her secret this way- god damn it all, he wasn’t supposed to find out this way, it wasn’t supposed to go like this-

“I guess this just made meeting the in-laws awkward on a whole other level.” Marcel joked but it was devoid of humor.

“Hrrm.”

Marcel reacted like a whip, his fight or flight instincts overriding him and he lashed out-

Only for a black cladded hand to catch his fist.

Well whoop-de-doo, fan-fuc$king-tastic, now frickin Batman was here too!

“How…. long have you been standing there waiting to make a dramatic entrance?” he asked, raising a brow.

Really, nothing shook him at this point.

“Long enough.” Batman- Bruce, he realized because who else could it be? – replied evenly.

Gods, kwamis and above help them all.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“So…. when were you gonna tell me?” Marcel asked.

Currently, they were seated in the main study with a tray of tea set before them. Marcel pointedly tried to ignore the grandfather clock- the elephant in the room- and tune out its insistent ticking which seemed to taunt him. He also ignored the fragrant tea for fear it might be spiked.

Hey, after what he’s witnessed in the past 24 hours, can you blame him for being cynically wary?

“I would have eventually. Unfortunately, it isn’t an easy secret to tell now, is it?” Dahlia sighed.

“I…………” the words lodged in his throat.

He had no words.

Hell, he didn’t even know what he was feeling right now.

A part of him was….a bit grateful that at the very least, he wasn’t pissed off. If he was, he might do or say something he’ll regret. Upset? Perhaps, that much he’ll admit.

Out of anything, he’s willing to place his money on shock.

He wasn’t at a loss out of anger or spite, simply _shock._ He thought he’d be used to revelations like this by now but once again, the universe has said ‘sike’ and yank the rug from under his feet.

“I’m just…. shocked. I-I’m not pissed- just…. shocked.” He put out and rubbed a hand over his eyes.

They’ve barely even started this conversation and already he felt the weight of the tension closing in on him.

“I…..apologize.” Dahlia said and really, she had no idea what else she could ay that seemed adequate.

“So you’re Robin?” he asked. Yeah it sounded pointless to ask but he had to hear it from her, he had to be 100 percent sure.

“Yes, I have carried the mantle since I was 10.” She said, voice dead serious, eyes gazing straight at him with honesty.

“I see.” He said.

The hair, the voice, the posture, the way she carried herself, the natural skill sets, the occasional oddity……. she didn’t even have magic to hide behind but dayum, she’s _good._

“But………………” Marcel slowly sat up straighter, his eyes startlingly clearer now that it was confirmed by her herself. “A part of me…shouldn’t be surprised now that I think about it.”

An elegant brow rose fractionally, prompting him to continue.

“If you look close enough, it’s not too hard to connect the dots. Your posture, the way you carry yourself- you do all that the same way even as Dahlia. Your reflexes are top-notch and you’re not just a pretty face; I’ll bet if you wanted to, you could knock Ivan down before he even knew you were coming.

“Your hands are calloused, probably from all the training you’ve done and you know how to wield a sword. Your coordination is fluid and you notice things no one else does. When you walk, your strides are assertive and well-balanced; you barely make a sound whenever you move. When you stand your stance is steady but your feet are light. 

“And well…. there’s also your eyes……I don’t know how to put it into words but…” his bluebell ones gazed at her, looking past her walls like glass down to her core. “I can _tell_ these kind of things…. I just… _see_ them.”

“And you say you’re no detective.” She remarked, impressed with his perceptiveness. Then again, she should've expected no less by now.

“So, you’re Robin, your father is Batman- no offence but I can’t see Alfred pulling the cowl off.” He listed off.

Dahlia held back a snort at the thought of Alfred donning the cowl. It seems he tried to pull the ‘I am Batman’ card on Marcel and failed from the looks of it.

“Dick is Nightwing, Jason is Red Hood, Tim is Red Robin, Stephanie is Batgirl and Cass is Black Bat. And Selina is Catwoman.” He listed on.

“Guess the dots aren’t too hard to find once one of us is outed.” Dahlia mused.

“…………. Dahlia, I hate liars.” Marcel said, voice even but firm.

Dahlia bristled somewhat at the insinuation that she was a liar like a certain Italian trollop.

“I know you’re not a liar but…... please, be honest with me. Why did you….do all this?” he asked.

“To protect you.” She said.

“Is that really all there is to it?” he asked. Then he stood up and paced about, running a hand through his hair as he tried to filter his words the best he could without heaping more hurt.

“Since day one, the moment you came to me and offered me your trust- was all it because of ‘The Mission’ or something? All…... _this_!” he gestured between himself and Dahlia. “Was it really just some….. _mission_ in the end for both of us?”

“No!” she vehemently denied, shooting up to her feet, eyes firm but sincere.

“Marcel, I swear on my life that it was never like that!” she hissed, slightly hurt that he of all people thought she’d stoop that low.

“Then you………….” Marcel swallowed. “You…really….”

“Yes, Marcel. All _of this, everything_ has been real, has been genuine since I met you. Since I stopped you from face-planting on the floor, since I stood up for you against those sheep classmates of yours, since you looked at me and saw me in a light barely anyone has ever been capable of doing, since I poured dedication into protecting you in and out of the mask- all of it _was genuine and real_ and for the first time in my life, it was a mission that went to levels beyond ‘ _The_ Mission’.” Dahlia snapped, letting it all pour out.

Each word slapped Marcel in the face, reminding him of how much of an idiot he was.

God, how could he have doubted her like that? After everything she’s done for him, everything they’ve opened up to each other, how could he even let himself believe she’d stoop that low?

“Dahlia I………….I’m…….I’m sorry.” He whispered.

“No, _no_.” she said firmly, stepping forward to grab his shoulders. “Don’t. Apologize. You did nothing wrong.”

“I…..” he swallowed. “I just thought….”

He thought he’d make the same mistake twice.

He thought he’d earn another emotional scar.

“Once bitten twice shy.” She said. “We…..we’ve both been there.”

“Does this………. what does this mean for us?” he asked finally.

“It doesn’t change anything.” Dahlia said, voice determined. “You were going to find out eventually and…I’ve brought this matter up before with the others. They’ve given us their consent.”

“And your father?” he asked, nerves evident in his voice.

“You’d be surprised.” She replied.

“You sure he won’t-”

“Marcel, you do realize you’re the Oracle to a superhero yourself, yes? You’re no ordinary civilian so I doubt father has much to fret over.” She said.

Oh, if only she knew.

“That’s………………..” he felt a weight he didn’t know he had finally dissipate from his chest. “That’s a relief.”

And he meant it. It truly was. His heart could beat easy in his chest without rattling his core.

“…………..I…..think you should leave for the day.” Dahlia said awkwardly, not knowing what else to say.

“Ye….yeah.” Marcel agreed, rubbing the back of his neck.

As they walked towards the entrance, the silence between them was equal parts familiar yet foreign. Marcel decided to occupy his mind by dedicating his focus to mapping out the manor so he doesn’t get lost again.

“You don’t have to return tomorrow if you’re uncomfortable with doing so.” Dahlia said, breaking the silence.

“Thanks I just…..need some time to process all this.” He sighed.

“Understandable.” She said.

Cue awkward silence.

“………….you know I’m not mad, right?” Marcel said softly.

“That gives me some semblance of solace.” She acknowledged, giving him a small smile.

“Dahlia….I……….I have secrets too. More than you think and….and I just want you to know, from one secret keeper to another that I will tell you eventually. I just need….I just need to find the right way to do it first.” He said.

Because it was only fair.

He’d be a hypocrite to not tell her- she deserves to know; _she has a right to know._

“Take as much time as you need.” Dahlia said gently. “But….someday, I sincerely hope that both of us won’t have to keep secrets anymore.”

“So do I.” he replied earnestly.

They smiled and some transparency was restored, the tension loosening somewhat.

But Marcel’s smile faltered as the weight of those words wrapped around his heart.

“If it helps, I’m not innocent either….in terms of this whole…secrets thing, really.” He said. "There's still some secrets I haven't told you yet either."

“We’ll get there.” Dahlia said, surprised by her own optimism.

“There’s hope for us yet, huh? Two awkward hot mess of teenagers with god knows how many issues?” Marcel joked dryly.

“If father can get engaged and Todd can manage this long, our odds are fairly plausible.” She shrugged.

Soon, they arrived at the gates. Marcel turned around, offering her a smile to show that the olive branch between was far from ashes just yet.

“Thanks for trusting me with this.” He said.

“Thank you for giving me a second chance.” She replied.

Had things been slightly different, had he simply walked on further or chosen another room to enter, things between them wouldn’t have shifted. She still would’ve walked forward and give him a tender kiss in farewell.

As of now, she knew she had to respect new boundaries between them.

But once again, Marcel surprised her as he transcended those boundaries to give her a brief but no less heartfelt hug.

“I love you, _xiao feng_.” He whispered before letting her go.

“I love you too, habibi.” She replied.

They both smiled and Marcel waved goodbye as he entered the limo.

They could do this. They would adapt and move on.

Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope the whole conversation was kept in character. I think I'll do a filler chapter to focus on what the rest of the class was up to while Marcel was at the manor or something. Anyways, let me know what you think in the comments below and stay tuned!


	29. Getting to Know New (Crazy) Gothamites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What Adrianne, Lila, Alya, Alix and Sabrina have been up to behind the scenes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more or less set during the time when Joan revealed herself to Chris and when Marcel started to do the commissions.

Lila admired herself in the mirror, doing a small twirl to allow the skirt to flare out, showing her slim legs.

“Oh my god gurl, you are killin’ it!” Alya praised.

“Thank, Al.” she giggled before going back to admiring her designer dress.

“Lila, don’t you think you’ve already bought enough dresses?” Adrianne said, voice pleading to subtly tell Lila to stop what she was doing already.

“Lighten up, Adrianne. I know these aren’t your dear daddy’s brand but it’d be bad for the economy if we as customers don’t do our job to support their businesses.” The Italian waved off.

Adrianne sighed, slumping in her seat. She sombrely cast her gaze over to the dozen shopping bags Alya and Lila had accumulated; a majority of them belonging to the latter.

They’ve been going on one shopping spree after another, day till afternoon and her feet were sore. She was seriously getting one helluva workout from all the baggage carrying she was doing for Lila.

The Italian girl had gone from one shop to another; boutiques, jewellery shops, shoe shops, makeup shops, you name it; each time using her ‘connection’ with the Waynes to haggle a discount to the point every purchase was practically for free since she insisted that the Waynes would pay the tab for her.

At first, she was fine with Lila haggling a discount or two but seriously, it was getting way out of hand. Each time she tried to coax her and Alya to tone down on the number of purchases, they’d wave her off.

She managed to help them by subtly paying for them with the credit card her father had given her but gave up when she realized Lila had no intention of stopping. Plus, if she maxed out her emergency credit card over a shopaholic of all things, Nathalie would _not_ approve.

“Yo, Adrianne. Which one you think suits me more? Exhibit A.” Alya held an orange dress with applique flowers on the skirt against her body. “Or Exhibit B?” she held another, this one an orange gradient dress.

“I think either one is fine.” She offered with a strained smile.

“Hm….you’re right. Guess I’ll just take both!” the ombre-haired girl chirped.

“Alya, I think that’s unnecessary.” Adrianne sighed.

“Oh chill, girl. Let a girl splurge a little.” Alya waved off as she added the two dresses to her pile of purchases.

Adrianne groaned internally. This was gonna be a long day.

* * *

Alix stepped away from the wall, a satisfied smile on her face as she admired her handiwork.

Since coming to Gotham, she’s managed to cover almost every skater park there to show off her moves. But rollerblading wasn’t enough to satisfy her need for action. Thus, she opted to make her own mark of art while she was there. As a memento of sorts.

She’d originally contemplated on leaving a mural in homage to Red Beetle but crossed that out when she realized she was on foreign land. Thus, she opted to paint a rad mural of a dog on neon skates, leaving a trail of wreckage in its wake.

“Hey, kid, shouldn’t you be at school?”

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Whipping around, she tensed when she saw a small group of shabby guys saunter towards her.

She slowly stepped away but made sure to never take her eyes off them. She subtly pressed her heels together, activating the wheels on her shoes.

“Looks like we’ve got the punk type boys.”

Shit. Whipping around, she saw another two guys blocking her. They were taller than her, she’s willing to bet they could snatch her before she made it far.

But she was Alix fu$king Kubdel, like hell she’s going down without a fight.

“Piss off!” she snarled at them.

“Kid needs to be taught some manners.” One of them growled, stepping forward. He licked the lip piercing on his lips, eyes unstable and excited as he took out a flip knife.

Alix’s fight or flight instinct kicked in.

Dropping down and pivoting, she stretched her leg out and swept the guy’s feet from under him. Picking up a spray can along the way, she lifted it up and sprayed it right into the faces of the two guys blocking her in front.

They cussed as the colourful substance burned their eyes and Alix booked it, using her smaller size to duck under them.

Okay, maybe she should’ve thought twice about coming to such a shabby part of the neighbourhood just for the sake of street art.

Grabbing a pole, she used the momentum to swing herself into an alleyway. Behind her, she could hear the footsteps of the other guys chasing after her. Man, these guys must be desperate for quick pickings-

She skidded to a stop right before she hit a dead-end.

Well, fu$k.

Hearing sneering laughter behind her, she turned around and saw the guys advancing closer, trapping her.

She swallowed, scowling to cover up her nerves because crap, this wasn’t Paris. Red Beetle wasn’t here to bring her back if she gets hurt- or god forbid it, _dies_ \- and the only thing she had to defend herself with was a spray can and the MACE in her pocket.

“Alright, kid. Hand over yer wallet and we'll call it even.” One of them growled. If the red-rimmed eyes and paint stains were anything to go by, she’s guessing he’s the @$$hole she sprayed paint into earlier.

“I ain’t got $hit on me.” she said and it’s true. Her wallet had 25 bucks at best.

Swallowing her pride, she took her wallet out and tossed it towards him. “There! See for yourself.”

The guy opened it up and emptied its contents, his search only yielding a few bonus coins in one of the compartments. Scowling, he glared at her.

“Stick her boys.” He snarled, jerking his head towards her.

Alix gulped but tensed herself, bringing her arms up in a basic fighting stance she picked up from her fair share of rough brawls.

She got ready to duck under the guy’s swing-

A blur of red flew past her face, slamming straight into the guy and sending him flying to the wall. Her eyes widened as she saw him pinned to the wall by a….. giant red X?

“You ain’t from around here, are ya shortie?”

A figure dropped down in front of her, wearing a tattered ash-grey cape over a black bodysuit with a red ‘X’ on his chest. As he turned around to address her, she saw his skull-like mask which was admittedly badass.

“Hey, who you callin shortie skull face?” she said, indignant at the jab.

“Who the hell are you?!” one of the thugs snapped. The guy didn’t seem like any of the Bats.

“C’mon, kids. X marks the spots.” He said, tapping the red ‘X’ on his chest.

Taking up the challenge, they charged towards him which was pretty stupid in Alix’s opinion.

Sure enough, the guy whipped his hands out and fired another two constructs- both of red ‘X’s that tied the thugs up and sent them awkwardly sprawling down to the ground.

The last one came swinging at him with a bat. He smoothly evaded it, seemingly dancing around the guy and even with the mask on, Alix could picture the smug smirk on his face.

Ah yes, Gotham. Man, it’s been a while since Red X dropped by and some things never change.

Really, he could’ve just knocked the thug off his ass by now but it’s been so long since he’s been in a fight, his adrenaline was begging for him to make it last just a little while longer.

Unfortunately, that wouldn’t be possible thanks to a certain pinkhead.

Why? Because said pinkhead suddenly dashed past him and bashed the thug’s face with a pipe, finishing him off for him. Pretty sure he saw a small white piece- which was definitely _not_ a pearl- fly outta his mouth.

…………..well that’s a first. Girl had spunk he could tell but she’s either really brave or really stupid.

“I had it covered.” He sniffed.

“This ain’t a tango kid.” She huffed.

“Least this kid’s reached his growth spurt.” He shot back, standing up to his full height and looking down on her.

“So which one are you? Boy Wonder?” Alix mocked.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he tapped the ‘X’ on his chest.

“X?” she asked.

“Red X. You _definitely_ aren’t from around here.” He said, noting her French accent. “You a tourist?”

“Pretty much.” She shrugged. “Thanks for saving my ass anyways.” She added.

He chuckled. “Don’t get the wrong idea, shortie. I ain’t one of the good guys. Just looking out for number one.” He said.

Alix knew she should’ve left. Obviously, this guy wasn’t a hero but he didn’t seem like a villain either. He was giving her anti-hero vibes and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t intrigued. Not everyday you get to talk to one of the morally grey ones.

She watched as the guy walked towards each thug, emptying their pockets and taking their cash. He noticed her looking and raised a brow at her- at least…it looked like he was doing that under the mask.

“Shoo.” He said, waving his hand as though she were a fly.

“Make me.” She snarked.

“I’m surprised you ain’t calling the cops on me.” He quipped.

“Don’t push it and I won’t.” she shot back.

“Kid, you really gotta watch that mouth of yours and start choosing your battles.” He shook his head.

“Says the mercenary.” She smirked. “Yeah, I know your type. You do whatever the hell you want and do whatever it takes to survive. You ain’t bound by anyone but yourself. You’ll say fu$k capitalism one day and the next you’ll get your hands dirty for the government if they pay you enough dough.”

He whistled. “You thinking of joining the business?” he joked.

“Nah.” She chuckled and….she found that maybe this guy wasn’t such a jackass after all.

“You trying to impress me then, shortie cake?” he added.

“You ain’t my type.” She snorted, rolling her eyes. 

“Mm, you ain't my type either. I prefer blondes or redheads.” He mused, emptying another wallet.

He noticed a black, neon green and pink wallet that didn’t seem like the thugs. Sure enough, the pinkhead snatched it right out of his hands.

“Thanks.” She said.

“Finders keepers.” He said, holding his hand out for it. “C’mon, kid. You owe me one.”

“Losers weepers.” She shot back.

His eyes narrowed. But just as he lifted up his palm, he found himself staring at the nozzle of a MACE spray.

“I won’t hesitate, b!tch.” Alix threatened, voice even.

This girl seriously had balls of steel, he’ll give her that.

“You just did.”

The MACE spray was knocked out of her hand with a red ‘X’ construct and the wallet snatched away before she could blink.

“Too slow- SONNUVA-!” he cursed when he felt a sharp flare of pain crack across his shin.

Did this pipsqueak just _kick him in the shin?!_

“Too slow.” Alix smirked smugly, her wallet rightfully back in her hands. Rollerblades packed one helluva kick.

Rubbing his painful shin, he glared at her but grudgingly, this short pinkheaded French girl was gaining his respect. Looks like she wasn’t just talk after all.

“Not bad, shortie. Not bad.” He conceded.

“You ain’t such a bad jackass yourself.” Alix said and….she was surprised that she meant it.

“I’m not such a bad guy once you get to know me.” He said cheekily, no doubt another cocky smirk under the mask.

“I’ll see you around?” she asked.

“Asking for my number already?” he asked, leaning down rather boldly.

"I'm an ace with a case." she deadpanned.

“………you don’t know my name so I guess that ain’t really fair, huh? Name’s Alix.” She found herself offering.

“You sure you should be trusting me with that?” he asked.

“You don’t know my surname now, do ya? Alix is a pretty common name.” she sassed.

“True true. Welp, it was nice meeting ya, Alix.” He said.

“Wasn’t too bad meeting ya either, Red.” She replied.

He jerked in surprised when she rushed forward, slinging an arm across his shoulder and yanking him down. There was a flash, a click and it was then he realized she just took a frickin selfie with him!

“With this? It’d be hard to forget a jackass like you.” She smirked, glad she managed to throw him off guard.

“Ooooh you are one cheeky little gremlin.” He said.

With a two-finger salute, the guy vaulted up a fire escape and took to the rooftops.

“Don’t be a stranger!” she heard him yell back over his shoulder.

Smiling, she retraced her steps and walked back to where she left her supplies with her last mural.

Picking a new wall, she shook the red spray paint and started to trace a big ‘X’ for her new one.

* * *

Sabrina ran her finger along the row of book spines, eyes gazing intently as she tried to find what she was looking for.

Finally, she found it.

Grabbing the book, she brought it back to her designated spot in the library and began to read it with rapt attention.

It was a documentation of the time Gotham was hit with an earthquake that was so devastating, it became known as ‘No Man’s Land’. The fact that the city had only barely begun to recover from a deadly virus called ‘The Clench’ before said earthquake hit didn’t help matters either.

Not the first time she was grateful Paris had Red Beetle and his Miraculous Cure to fix things.

But she didn’t want to push luck and see how long that would last.

Glancing at the clock, she realized she’s been out for quite a while now and she promised Chris she’d hang out with him at the cool arcade he wanted to show her.

Reluctant to leave the book however, she walked over to the counter and prayed she could convince the librarian to let her borrow the book.

“Excuse me?” she asked quietly.

The librarian- a pretty redhead in a wheelchair, her nametag reading ‘Barbara’- looked up from her computer, a friendly smile on her lips.

“Can I help you?” she asked politely.

“Can I borrow this book? Pretty please? I know I don’t have a membership card but I promise I’ll bring it back tomorrow.” Sabrina pleaded, clasping her hands together.

Surprisingly, Barbara smiled, eyes bemused behind her spectacles.

“I’ll take your word for it.” She said warmly before stamping the book, giving her approval to take it.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Sabrina thanked, even giving a small bow of gratitude.

“Have a nice day.” Barbara waved goodbye as the French girl skipped off.

* * *

Alya admired her new phone in awe, reverently holding it as she admired the sleek design and smooth screen.

“Now you won’t have to use this old piece of junk anymore.” Lila purred, scrunching her nose at her old damaged one. Did the girl throw it into a wall or something?

She resisted the urge to grimace when Alya tackled her into one of her signature friendship hugs of gratitude.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Alya thanked.

Lila plastered on a sweet smile for her ‘bestie’. “Well it’s the least I could do. You’re always so kind to give me all those interviews.” She said sweetly.

She saw Adrianne roll her eyes behind Alya’s back before the blonde model went back to her phone. Lila frowned. Recently, Adrianne hasn’t been that cooperative. She might have to put her back in her place soon.

Adrianne stared at the screen, contemplating sending a text to her father. They never did finish their conversation…………….

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

_“Father? We need to talk.”_

_“Adrianne, how are you? I hope Gotham hasn’t been too harsh on you.”_

_“Father, I appreciate your concerns but we need to talk.” She repeated, for once, voice leaving no room for argument._

_“…..very well. I have some time to spare.”_

_“Father, is it true that you…….do you **kill** people when you unleash an akuma?”_

_“You know exactly how I akumatize someone-”_

_“That’s not the point! I mean the akumas, father. Are you aware that the akumas you unleash kill civilians caught in the crossfire?”_

_“…………..who told you that?” he asked._

_“I asked you first.” She shot back._

_“Is that any way to speak to your father?” he said, voice even but she heard the stern disapproval underneath._

_She winced. “I apologize for my attitude father but please, I have to know. You promised to tell me everything.”_

_He sighed. “I admit that at times I underestimate the destructive capabilities of the akumas. But I swear, Adrianne, I never intended to go as far as to massacring people in order to achieve our goals.”_

_“But you’ve done it multiple times already! Father, maybe it’s time you’ve reconsidered your tactics.”_

_“I know what I’m doing, daughter. Trust me, soon, it will all be over. Do you trust me?”_

_She hesitated. “I……”_

_Did she trust her father? She….she loved him and he loved her. He cared for their family so….surely the least she can do is give her his approval for now?_

_“I do, father.”_

_“We’re not monsters, my child. Remember, for our family.”_

_The call ended and she clutched her phone, her knuckles turning white as the ring on her finger glinted._

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

For her family.

She wasn’t a monster.

_She was doing this for her family._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's face it, Lila would be arrogant enough to believe she can get away with what she did since Bruce is said to be an airheaded party boy. Also, since Sabrina goes to the libraries, I wouldn't put it pass her going to one where Barbara works and thought it'd be a nice cameo for her.  
> Red X is one of my favourite Teen Titan characters and definitely the best anti-hero I've ever seen animated. The guy seriously deserves more credit. And no, Red X is NOT Jason Todd in this fic.  
> Ngl, the thought of putting him in here and having him interact with Alix was a spur on the moment idea and I thought 'hey, why not?'. I wanted to try giving the two of them a sort of.....snarky but grudging respect kinda relationship and I can see them getting along pretty well. Maybe if I can, I'll try to develop their relationship into a friendship, maybe even a platonic one.  
> But I WON'T make it romantic as I cannot see Alix committing herself into an intimate relationship.  
> If you guys have any HCs or ideas for the next time they interact, feel free to suggest them here.  
> Regardless, let me know your opinion in the comments below.


	30. Smile Like It’s (Going to Be) Your Last; Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanna hear a joke?

Tikki’s met many people, it was only natural when she was practically immortal.

She’s the kwami of Fortune and Creation. Like the former implied, she’s had the fortune of gaining numerous wielders, all of whom she came to see as her kin. They all had their ups and downs, their individual flaws and low moments but at the end of the day, no matter what new era she awoke to, no matter how many decades or centuries pass, she still loves them all the same.

Marcel was no exception.

And by the gods, she was worried for him.

She glanced over at wielder, watching as he tossed and turned in his sleep, muttering under his breath as he fisted his blankets. She saw a thin sheen of sweat coating him but upon touching his forehead, she was glad that at the very least he didn’t seem to be burning up from a fever.

“Tikki?” Kaalki’s sleepy voice reached her.

“I think he’s having a bad dream.” Tikki whispered.

“Again?” Kaalki asked, getting up from her perch, her eyes genuinely concerned now.

This wouldn’t be the first time Marcel got nightmares. If anything, they were considered common nowadays.

Tikki _hated_ that something so heart-wrenching had become constant to the point it was considered as part of Marcel’s ‘normalcy’.

Marcel curled up into a ball, his knuckles whitening as his mutters turned into growls and grunts, his body trembling as though under strenuous effort. His hand scrambled, as though blindly searching for something just out of his grasp.

“No…..no……” he muttered, turning to the side.

“Marcel.” Tikki said, voice soft as she tried to wake him up. “Marcel, wake up. It’s not real, you’re dreaming.”

Whether he heard her or not, she didn’t know but, in that moment, his eyes shot wide open and with a gasp, he sat up straight.

“Marcel!?” Tikki and Kaalki called out worriedly.

Marcel panted, his shirt sticking to his body from sweat, his heart thudding in his throat and his throat constricted from air.

He shakily brought his hands up, clenching and unclenching them. His eyes slowly scanned the room and he saw only darkness and the two silhouettes of his kwamis.

“Marcel, breathe. It wasn’t real, you’re here with us, you’re safe.” Tikki soothed, running a small paw through his raven locks.

Marcel placed his face in his hands, trying to slow his rapid beating heart.

Deep breaths…..it was just a dream……………..

Or was it more?

Furry bodies, small yet fast, squeaking as they carried him away like a wave- mice, they were mice.

There were also statues…….no, mannequins. All of them etched with the same gut curdling malicious grin, blood red lips and yellowish teeth. Just thinking of that sickening grin made his goosebumps prickle.

But he’d been pushing against the horde. Pushing against the flow, reaching out, fingers blindly grasping for something-

The Mouse Miraculous.

He stared at his empty hands, mind racing.

Why had he so desperately searched for it? Was it crucial to put an end to the chaos he had been in?

The grin came back to mind. This time, the image was accompanied by maniacal laughter, mingling with the frenzied squeaks from the mice.

He stumbled out of bed, grabbing his messenger bag and hoodie along the way, not even bothering to change out of his pyjamas.

“Marcel? Where are you going?” Tikki asked, whizzing over to him as he put on the Horse Miraculous.

“We’re going to pay Master Fu a visit.”

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Upon placing the pendant necklace around his neck, the dark grey circular pendant changed into a bronze Chinese coin on a simple black thread.

“Marcel, are you certain you can handle this?” Master Fu asked, his eyes gazing at him in worry.

“Don’t worry, Master. I’ve used Mullo before, I can do it.” He said, warmly giving said Mouse Kwami a scratch between her ears.

“That’s not what I meant.” His mentor said, eyes grave. “You are already alternating between Tikki and Kaalki on a daily basis, bringing another miraculous into the mix could cause serious backlash.”

“I just need it for tomorrow. Please, Master. Just one or two days and I swear I’ll bring her back.” Marcel pleaded.

Master Fu sighed, but he gave no further argument. He trusted his protégé’s instincts. Should danger arise in Gotham which requires the Mouse Miraculous to be dealt with, who was he to deny the safety of Marcel and others?

“Be careful.” He said.

Marcel smiled, touched by his mentor’s care. He really was his grandpa in all but blood.

“I’ll do my best.” He promised, placing his hand over Master Fu’s, the latter’s now wrinkly with old age.

Actually…. Marcel noted with a pang of concern that his grey hair now had stark white strands mixed amongst it.

Master Fu chuckled, no doubt noticing Marcel picking up the slight hints.

“You know how much of a worried old man I am.” He said.

 _Merde_ , _old_ , he _willingly_ used the word old. Yeah, he was literally more than 100 years old but back then, not once did he ever say that word with such…resignation.

“Don’t worry about me, Marcel.” Master Fu said firmly, placing another over his. “Never lose sight of your goal.”

Marcel mutely nodded, unsure of what else he could say in response.

“Take care, Master.” Marcel said softly.

Summoning Voyage, he gave Master Fu one last smile before leaving.

“I’ll do my best.” Master Fu whispered.

* * *

Dahlia grunted as she blocked another kick from Cass. Regaining her ground, she lashed out, but Cass smoothly evaded, stepping in to jam her.

Before she knew it, Cass swiftly performed a duckunder takedown, sending her back crashing down onto the ground.

“That’s 3 points to 1.” Cass said, her brows furrowing in disapproval. “Should be 2 to 2 _at least_.”

Dahlia swept her legs out from under her.

“And that’s 3 points to 2.” Dahlia growled, feeling the frustration bubbling to near boiling point under her skin.

Goddamn it, what was wrong with her?!

Why was she so unfocused? So boneheaded, so careless, so flustered, so….so……...sloppy?! This wasn’t her; this wasn’t her at all! She was gradually becoming a dull blade, her edge chipping away to leave a messy jagged line.

“What’s wrong?” Cass asked bluntly. Of course, she’d notice her internal existential crisis.

“Nothing.” Dahlia bit out.

Cass rose a brow, slightly offended as though Dahlia was underestimating her intelligence.

“You’re sloppy. You’re _never_ sloppy.” Cass persisted.

“She’s right, baby bird.” Great, now Grayson was pulled into this. “What’s on your mind?”

“None of your business. What I can tell you two is that pushing the subject will do nothing to ease it.” Dahlia coolly said.

Before they- or herself- could say or do anything that they’ll regret afterwards, she left. She turned on her heel and briskly walked off.

“Come on, Dali. Talk to us…..talk to me.” Dick, ever the concerned eldest sibling, came after her. But he didn’t place a hand on her shoulder so at least he was wise enough to keep his distance.

“Not now, Grayson.” She snipped. “Please just….let it go.”

Great, now she was _pleading_.

“……..okay.” he said.

She didn’t know whether to be grateful or even more ticked off over how easily he relented- just how messed up was she right now?

………..crap, do they know? Do they know that Marcel knows?

She sighed, rubbing her eyes. She felt a small headache gradually grow and she really…..really wanted to just-

Stab something.

Not that it’d be productive in any way, much less therapeutic.

Pennyworth was up ahead.

She walked on until she walked past him. He spared her a glance….she didn’t.

She entered the closest room and shut the doors before she could get anymore of those glances from other family members passing by.

As she did, another door opened as Alfred stepped in. Bruce turned around in his chair, already having an inkling as to what the two of them were about to discuss.

“She’s more rattled than we thought she’d be.” Alfred said grimly.

“She may have been bred by warriors and raised to be a fighter, but she’s also human.” Bruce sighed, taking a sip of his tea. He would’ve preferred coffee but Alfred was putting him on a stricter caffeine intake leash.

“And what of Marcel?” Alfred asked.

“I trust him not to tell anyone.” Bruce replied.

“Even Red Beetle?” he added.

“He seems to know how to use his instincts but I wouldn’t put it pass him to follow his heart.” Bruce said. “If Dahlia told him not to tell- and we both know she no doubt did- I think Marcel would, at the very least, respect her wishes.”

“But for how long?” Alfred asked.

“Long enough for them to clear things up.” He said. ‘I hope.’ Went unsaid.

……………Bruce would be lying if he said he knew what would happen. He’s already cooked up multiple scenarios but he couldn’t allow himself to linger on one specifically.

He was the World’s Greatest Detective.

But he sure as hell wasn’t the World’s Wisest Matchmaker.

* * *

Marcel lazily brushed his teeth, forcing his arm to comply with the back and forth motion. Exhausted bagged eyes stared back at him from the mirror.

His phone vibrated, a text from Chris. He absentmindedly replied it.

As he stared at his contact list, his eyes lingered towards Dahlia’s.

Not a single text had been sent. They’ve been going text-less for 2 days now.

He placed his phone down, unwilling to let himself linger on that, _again._

Dahlia, Robin; Robin, Dahlia.

Bruce, Batman; Batman, Bruce.

Dick, Nightwing; Nightwing, Dick-

He splashed ice cold water on his face, the chilling sensation on his face keeping him grounded to reality before he lost his mind.

Sleep deprivation- fu$k you nightmares-, stress, overthinking, the constant anxiety niggling deep inside him as akumas came and went, the tension coiling in the marrow of his bones, the commissions- did they even matter? Would the Waynes still let him do it even?-

He pressed his forehead against the cold mirror, exhaling. His breath misting the smooth clear surface.

And today, him and his class were going to visit Gotham Museum which was filled with recollections and snippets of Gotham’s Guardians and Rogues.

Irony’s decided to come bite him in the ass today, huh?

He wasn’t sure if he could stomach the thought of having to be around constant reminders of what he’s discovered recently.

He doesn’t want to be reminded of the very reason that could potentially give birth to the end of his relationship with Dahlia.

Dahlia………………….

He buried his face in his towel as though doing so would scrub off the feeling of her hands cupping his face, her fingers gently caressing it.

He gurgled his mouth as though that would wash away the feeling of her soft lips against his, of that brief passionate moment they shared when she opened up her soul to allow him a glimpse of the creations she’s capable of carving with her own hands.

Why-

Why was he acting as though he was trying to forget her already?

Was he that pathetic? Was he really giving up on all hope already?

That last thought was like the crack of a whip, finally wrapping around him to yank him out of his funk.

He leaned back against the wall and slowly slid down. He was dully aware of his phone vibrating with more texts, probably Sabrina, Alix and Chris urging him to hurry up before the class left him again.

No.

‘Stop that.’ He growled to himself.

His fists clenched, he gritted his teeth and he inhaled sharply but deeply. Slowly, he released it.

He stood up and when he did, this time, the reflection that stared back at him was more recognizable. Less broken, less lost.

He couldn’t let himself spiral into despair again.

Not like before with Adrianne.

“Never again.” He had vowed to himself that day.

And what the hell was he even moping over- it’s like Dahlia’s even outright dumped him yet! If anything, she still wanted this.

She still wanted him- she still _loved_ him. She wanted to continue to treasure this, to nurture it and let it grow into something more to be cherished.

And so did he.

With that in mind, he got dressed and picked up his phone.

Swallowing his nerves, he dialed her number before he could backpedal.

“I apologize for my absence. Leave a message.”

“Hi Dahlia. It’s me, Marcel….uh, you probably already knew that.” He stuttered.

Smooth, Marcel. Real smooth.

“Look I…..I get it, you know…if I’m the last person you want to see right now but…” he took a deep breath and bit the bullet. “We need to talk.

“Please, _xiao feng_. I don’t want this to last. I want to move on.” His eyes widened when he realized how wrongly she could interpret that. “I’m _NOT_ saying I’m ending this!” he hurriedly added. “What I mean to say is-urgh-!”

He ran a hand through his hair, ready to rip it off his scalp. Man, he sucked at this, didn’t he? Three years later and he’s still as smooth as sandpaper.

“Dahlia, I love you.” He said. There he said it.

“I….” he felt himself choking up. “God, I love you so much and I still do and…and I don’t want...I don’t want this to last. I-I want to cherish what we have, I want to keep being with you, I want to have more memories of the two of us just being happy to treasure. I…I want us to nurture this and become something more and-”

“I’m sorry. You have reached the limit for this voicemail.”

“Wait-nononono-” he panicked.

DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUT.

The call ended.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Titus whined, standing on his hind legs as he tried to wake Dahlia up. He butted her face with his muzzle, whinnying as he did.

“Mm…. what is it boy?” Dahlia asked, turning around to look at him.

He jerked his head towards the side of her table, indicating her phone. Picking it up, she blinked and wondered if she was dreaming.

Someone had just called her.

Marcel had just called her.

She hadn’t answered but he left a voice message in her voicemail inbox.

Pushing her blankets aside, her swung her legs to let them dangle off the edge of her bed and sat up straighter. Checking to make sure there was no one outside of her room, she pressed play.

Despite everything, she felt her lips twitch up in a fond smile when she heard Marcel’s stuttered greeting.

The message played on and each word tugged at each of her heartstrings, thrumming it with vibrations that made her skin tingle.

He’d wanted to say more, she could tell. But alas, the voicemail cut him off upon reaching the time limit.

She sighed and placed the phone over the chest. As though doing so could compensate for one of Marcel’s warm embraces. She buried her face into her pillow as though doing so could make up for her snuggles with him.

Checking her phone, it was then she noticed there were also a few text messages from Marcel.

Angel: I’m so sorry, the voicemail cut me off and I was in a pinch.

Angel: But I meant what I said, ange. I want us both to handle this _together._

Angel: I’m going to the Gotham Museum today, crazy huh? Guess I’ll get to see you there too. In a way.

Angel: Mon dieu, I’m sorry if I was insensitive.

Angel: What I want to say is that I love you. And I don’t want this to end. Not like this.

Angel: I gtg. Take care. Talk to you soon?

The last text was a question. And those four simple words, they held so much weight. And once she cut that weight-

It would crash down, nailing the catalyst to tip off the dominoes.

Her determination hardened and finally, her blade danced with purpose.

GGF: Yes. We will talk and handle this _together._

* * *

“You look like $hit.” Alix deadpanned.

“Mm, what gave it away?” Marcel deadpanned in reply.

Alix winced. If Marcel was replying like that, something told her that she ought to take this seriously with more tact.

“Rough night?” she asked, voice softening as she dropped her usual sharp wit.

“Yeah.” Marcel sighed.

“Another nightmare?” Sabrina asked.

He nodded.

“Does that happen often?” he glanced up and saw Juleka turning around, leaning over her seat to talk to him. “I have some pills if you want.” She offered.

“I don’t think that’s safe.” Rose said, pouting slightly in disapproval.

“Wait, you have medication for sleeping problems?” Marcel asked. This was the first time this was brought to his attention. Has he really grown apart from her so much in the past three years that he didn’t even notice?

“She’s not the only one. I have some too.” Nathaniel piped in.

“Oh.” He frowned. He couldn’t but feel like he’s let them down somehow by not noticing sooner. He is class president after all.

“Don’t bump yourself out. It’s not your problem and we never told you about it.” Juleka said.

“Couffaine’s right. Besides, you’re not their personal babysitter.” Chris sniffed in typical Chris fashion.

“I don’t like sleeping pills. I tried them once but…..” Rose shrugged. “They didn’t sit right with me. I suggest a therapist. If you want, I can introduce you to mine. She’s been really helpful in helping me recover since Princess Fragrance.” Rose offered.

“Thanks for the offers guys but I’ll pass. They’re not that frequent and I already have my own ways to cope.” Marcel politely declined but gave them a grateful smile.

They turned away just in time for him to glance down, eyes darkening as his fists clenching so hard his nails dug into his skin. His body trembled with indignation and rage boiled so badly it threatened to burst right out of him.

Marcel knows- he knows firsthand more than anyone how volatile an akuma can be and how rattling the aftermath is. Maybe it’s not always instantaneous for some but eventually, the full force of their past dark actions will always come back to slam them down to the ground.

He knew god knows how many victims who’ve been emotionally/mentally traumatized for life after he purifies them but to actually get confirmation from his classmates…….

A hand on his shoulder. It made his trembling quell.

It was Chris. Said boy gently but firmly pried his fists open.

“I……….” he exhaled, allowing the tension to seep away. “I’m fine now-”

He got no further as a cough rattled his body. Chris’s eyes widened in alarm as his best friend hunched over in his seat, coughing up a storm.

“Marcel!” he called.

“Fine!” Marcel choked out.

“What’s wrong?” Sabrina asked, putting aside her library book.

“It…it’s nothing.” Marcel gasped as the coughing subsided.

Chris’s eyes narrowed. As Marcel straightened, his collar shifted and he noticed the thread around his neck.

Checking to make sure no one was paying attention, he shifted his body to cover Marcel. Leaning close, he spoke just loud enough for the two of them to hear.

“What the hell are you wearing around your neck?” Chris asked.

Marcel showed him the bronze coin but Chris wasn’t fooled. He knew what that really was.

And that thought sent ice cold terror through his veins.

“I thought you’re not supposed to use more than two!” he hissed.

“I didn’t merge them.” Marcel reassured.

“What do you even need that for?” Chris asked.

“As a precaution.” He said. “Just….trust me on this, okay? I have a bad feeling about this.”

Chris sharply released a breath through his teeth. He ran a hand through his blonde hair, slumping back in his seat.

“Well this should be an interesting trip.” He sarcastically grumbled to no one in particular.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Lila turned around and frowned when she saw Nathaniel, Rose and Juleka cozy up to Marcel and his group again.

Looks like those three really have turned their backs on her to join the losing side. No matter, they were nobodies. Small fry. Their loss was inconsequential.

“So what happened next?” Alya prodded, her new phone being put to good use as she recorded.

Right, she was telling them about the time she went on a ‘mission’ with Batman, The Dark Knight and all that jazz.

“After that, Batgirl and I decided that while I distract the Riddler, she could sneak in to save Batman through the vents.” She went on.

“You were the distraction?! That must’ve been crazy dangerous!” Alya gasped.

Lila waved her off. “Batman taught me a few moves so I was fairly confident I could stand on my own a bit. He even gave me my own utility belt though I had to return it since, y’know, I couldn’t exactly take that through airport customs.” She joked.

She paused when she heard a sudden coughing fit. Turning around once more, she saw Marcel hunching over his seat, hacking up a storm.

“Forget it, guy’s probably being dramatic.” Alya scoffed.

Sure enough, he recovered and continued to talk to his jerk of a best friend.

She shrugged. Oh well, he’ll live.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Arriving at the museum, Marcel paused when he saw a girl casually strolling inside coincidentally at the same time as them.

She wore a beanie over her black hair with black lace boots, a long brown hoodie jacket over a burgundy cropped top with black ripped jeans.

Marcel instantly knew it was Dahlia.

“Hey Marcel.” _Merde_. “Isn’t that your girlfriend?”

Said girl turned around-

Only to reveal a girl with blue eyes, wearing spectacles with freckles across her cheeks.

Marcel raised a brow at Lila. “Pretty sure she didn’t go for plastic surgery overnight.” He said dryly.

“Whoops! Sorry, my bad.” Lila nervously chuckled, playing with one of her sausage locks.

Internally, the Italian girl fumed, unhappy that she made such a slip-up in front of everyone. But that’s okay, there was plenty more where that came from.

The tour started and she was already bored. Not the first time she was reminded of how drearily drab this city was. Seriously, Metropolis was right next door, why didn’t they just go there instead of this gothic slumpfest?

“Cover for me.” Marcel whispered to Chris.

His best friend shot him a questioning glance but nodded nonetheless. Once he did, Marcel had no problem slipping away from his class though he made sure they were within his sights.

Dahlia appeared, seemingly materializing from the shadows. She wore the same clothes, keeping the spectacles but her jacket was beige now- a reversible jacket, he guessed- and she removed the contact lenses and freckles.

“Was the disguise necessary?” he asked.

“The last thing we need is to make a scene.” She shrugged.

“…..so you’re like, a master of disguise?” he couldn’t help but ask, slightly awed.

“I once disguised myself as Joan’s substitute Geography teacher and her bus driver.” Dahlia admitted as though she were telling him about the groceries she bought.

His eyebrows shot up. “You sure you’re qualified to do that?”

“I knew how to drive when I was 5 and if I wanted to, I could’ve earned a Geography doctorate when I was 7.” She deadpanned.

Marcel whistled.

For a while, the two of them stood there, the tour guide’s voice alongside the chatter of all the other people in the museum fading into white noise as the silence between them stretched.

“….you said you wanted to talk.” Dahlia acted.

“Yeah.” Marcel said, blowing his bangs away from his face.

“Then let’s talk.” She said firmly, looking him straight in the eyes.

Marcel nodded. “Can I go first?”

“Sure.” She said.

“………….I think I speak for both of us when I say that….we both have issues….opening up to others, trusting them enough to grant them the transparency….letting ourselves be vulnerable, admitting our mistakes and the few times we were selfish.” He said.

“And those issues don’t go away overnight.” Dahlia agreed.

“I know you were going to tell me eventually. I never doubted for a moment that you would but well….I….kinda messed it up when I poked my nose around in places I shouldn’t.” he sighed.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” She said. “And to be fair……a part of me was conflicted too. I wasn’t sure which side you felt was more reliable- Dahlia Wayne, Princess of Gotham or Robin, Girl Wonder.

“Sometimes it seemed as though you felt safer when you were with Robin. That you were more willing to be transparent. Yet, sometimes it felt like you were more content when you were with Dahlia.”

Marcel chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Who would’ve thought they were one of the same.” He said.

“Can you ever see me as both?” she asked.

“Yes.” He replied. “I can.” He added with firm belief.

“……..can you……can you give me more time?” he asked, his finger subconsciously rubbing the thread around his neck. “I know I sound like a hypocrite saying this but….there’s some secrets I’m not ready to tell….not yet….not for a while.”

She smiled at him reassuringly, placing a hand on his shoulder just like she did back at Wayne Enterprises. “Take all the time you need.” She said.

She took her hand away and they stood there. The tension loosened somewhat, the atmosphere between them amiable, the metaphorical gap no longer as wide.

“…………………oh god, if Grayson were here, he’d never let me hear the end of this.” She sighed.

“It’s like some high school drama rom-com am I rite?” Marcel agreed.

“God forbid it.” She bemoaned which got a genuine laugh out of him.

“………………do you forgive me?” she asked softly.

He smiled at her gently, the tender warmth instantly dispelling her anxious worries.

“There’s nothing to forgive. Never was. This doesn’t change anything.” He said.

He wrapped his arms around her once more, embracing her. He pressed a kiss on her head, inhaling her fragrance.

She smiled, snuggling against his warm body and relishing his loving embrace.

And just like that, the gap had successfully been bridged.

“Wanna tag along?” he offered, jerking his head towards his class.

“Tt, they wouldn’t know Gotham even if it tap-danced on their foreheads.” She said before sauntering over.

Marcel laughed. It was good to have his girlfriend with him.

Her arrival didn’t go unnoticed as Alya groaned while Chris, Alix, Sabrina smirked and Nathaniel, Juleka and Rose shared bemused looks.

“You again?!” Alya groaned.

“And you. Life’s full of disappointments.” Dahlia drawled.

Bustier sighed, massaging her temples. Then she straightened herself up and stalked over towards Marcel.

“Marcel, I have had enough of this. You cannot constantly let your girlfriend uproot the trip all your classmates worked hard to earn-” she started.

“With all due respect Mme. Bustier, I worked just as hard if not harder than them. Unless you’re telling me someone anonymously conjured the essay that won us this trip?” Marcel asked.

“Then why are you letting all your hard work go to waste?” she asked, exasperated.

“I’m not doing anything. I don’t ask the bus to leave ahead of time before everyone’s attendance is accounted for and I don’t try to ask all my classmates to be at my beck and call to suit my needs.” He said.

Among the students, Lila scowled at the passive jab while Alya growled.

Bustier’s lips pressed into a thin line, her stance tense. She also became aware that people were beginning to stare.

“We will continue this discussion later.” She said tersely.

And so the tour continued. Marcel and his friends have to admit, with Dahlia around it was a lot more interesting. She added bonus information the guide didn’t mention combined with her dry sarcastic humor which bemused them to no end.

“Oh wait, I read about this one!” Sabrina said. “This was after the ‘Clench’ when Gotham became ‘No Man’s Land’.”

“The government cut ties with Gotham, leaving it to crumble.” Dahlia sniffed. “Cowards the lot. They just didn’t want to spend their blood money so they attempted to sweep it under the rug.”

“Of course! I was so worried when my mom told me about what happened and I begged her to send help over but she told me it just wasn’t possible.” Lila said sadly, spinning a tale on how she had tried oh so hard to convince the government to help poor desolated No Man’s Land.

“So, I snuck out of the house and came over using a helicopter- the pilot owed me a favor after I helped pick up his distress signal this one time- and it was just horrible! I thought I saw it all when I visited the slums of third-world- countries but Gotham was so….oh god it was so terrible!” she sniffed, shedding tears as she ‘recalled’ the despairing memory.

“Pity the rubble didn’t fall on top of her and put us all out of this misery.” Dahlia drawled as she picked it all up.

“How could you?” Chris mock gasped. “That’d be too instantaneous. Like, just splat and the end?” he shook his head. “Nah, that’s too easy on her.”

“Dahlia! Chris!” Marcel scolded.

“I mean, if the rubble just crushed her leg or something then it would’ve just been painful.” Alix shrugged.

“Unless it was a piece of rebar that stabbed through her. If so then she would’ve slowly bled to death. Much more agonizing than crushed bone.” Dahlia hummed.

“Should we be worried?” a slightly pale faced Sabrina whispered to Marcel.

“Very.” Marcel agreed.

And considering the fact that his girlfriend was Robin, he wouldn’t put it past her to know a thing or two about brutal deaths. But she doesn’t kill! …………right?

Finally, the class arrived at the section they had all been eager to see. Gotham’s guardians and fiends were displayed for all to see. Costumes, gadgets and weapons- all of which were dismantled/disabled and quadruple-checked for confirmed safety-, mannequins reenacting battles, etc. There were even pictures depicting the Dark Knight and his numerous sidekicks/partners throughout the years. Dahlia was satisfied to see that all Robins, _including herself_ , were mentioned.

“Yup, Batman always brought me to the cave to meet each Robin. I’d always be the first to know about them since he thought they could use a civilian friend to support them. The first one was so precious, he always trailed after me like I was his sister.” Lila flaunted from the front in a not so subtle whisper. “I didn’t want to break his heart so I never said anything about his first costume. Thank god the third one finally took my advice and added proper pants.”

That, Dahlia could stand to never be mentioned in her presence.

Unsurprisingly, Marcel had his nose buried in his sketchbook. She glanced over, expecting to see him impressed only to be disappointed as she saw the furrow in his brows.

“Something the matter?” she asked.

“Are all these accurate recreations of all their costumes?” he asked.

“They’re not costumes, they’re _uniforms.”_ She bristled stiffly.

With a deadpanned face, Marcel pointed a finger towards the case containing Dick’s first Robin outfit……..the leotard one.

Dahlia cringed, a part of her soul dying as she was reminded of her predecessor’s less than approving fashion decisions. God forbid Marcel ever discovers his Discowing uniform.

“He was an acrobat and he was 10 years old.” She sniffed in defense.

“I swear on my life if you put me in those pixie shoes when I was 10, I would’ve come up with something better.” He said.

“That would be one-sided.” She mused aloud, flicking his forehead.

“But seriously, why did he choose the colors of a traffic light? I get he was meant to be the light to the Dark Knight’s well…. darkness and yeah, I’ll admit the bright colors act as a smart distraction for the bad guys but seriously _, traffic light colors?”_ Marcel went on.

“From what I’ve seen, your hero wears red and black polka dots with coattails.” She shot back.

“Hey! He makes coattails look badass in a fight!” Chris defended.

“They’re impractical.” Dahlia huffed.

“And a cape isn’t?” Alya argued. She was kinda offended since her Rena Rogue outfit had a coattail too.

“A cape can be used to disguise body language, hindering your opponent’s ability to anticipate your strategy.” She shot back sharply.

“Actually, depending on the length and material, a cape has a 68.5 % chance of hindering an individual further during combat.” Max piped in.

“Numbers are irrelevant to experience. A majority of Gotham’s crusaders wear capes yet they’re still efficient, are they not?” Dahlia said.

“And the cape kinda adds to the aesthetic. I mean, I can’t see Batman making the superstitious cowardly lot piss their pants without his cape and cowl.” Alix mused.

Looks like Kubdel had more sense than these folk. Good to know.

“You’re just jealous cuz our heroes don’t end up getting killed like yours!” Alya snapped.

Silence.

Complete utter silence.

It was as though those words were a blast of wind that knocked away everything, leaving a haunting whistling void in its wake.

A good few Gothamites turned to look at Alya, eyes wide with shock and disgust, fists clenching as rage rose and trembling from indignation at the sheer audacity of the disrespect Alya just uttered. Marcel could’ve sworn some of them looked close to tears even. Their tour guide looked torn between crying or slapping Alya.

_“How dare you.”_

Alya flinched and stepped back as Dahlia advanced towards her, pure unbridled rage radiating off her in waves, contrasting the cold deadly look on her face as she stalked towards her.

If looks could kill, Alya would be dead 10 times over.

“How dare you disrespect them like that!” Dahlia snapped, jabbing a finger at Alya’s face. “You! An ignorant tabloid reporter from Paris, have the audacity to spit on the sacrifices Gotham’s Guardians have done for this godforsaken city for years. You! Alya Cesaire are a disgrace! You will always be an ignorant fool and for that possession of such pure stupidity, I loathe you and worse, _I pity you_.” She spat in her face.

“Alya, I think you took it too far.” Bustier hissed, anxiously eyeing the numerous spectators looking at them in disgust like a pariah.

“Apologize.”

They looked at Marcel.

Marcel who stood there, face calm and tone even but it rang with authority and his bluebell eyes were blazing with controlled sharpness.

“But I-”

 ** _“Apologize. Now.”_** He repeated.

Dahlia felt herself holding her breath alongside everyone else as that reque- no, that _command_ resonated.

Swallowing her pride, Alya looked down and through gritted teeth, finally said it.

“I’m sorry.” She said.

“What was that?” Dahlia asked, cocking her head to the side.

“I said, I’m sorry!” Alya spat, louder.

“For?” Marcel added.

“Marcel, she already apologized.” Bustier hissed.

“Yeah, why?” he asked.

“For saying something insensitive about Gotham’s heroes, okay? I stepped outta line!” Alya snapped.

“And should you do that ever again, I will ensure you never step one toe in Gotham ever again.” Dahlia snarled.

No one dared make a sound as Dahlia walked away from Alya, giving her a look akin to how one would look at something repulsive.

Gradually, the other Gothamites turned away- some looking a bit smug, Chris noted- and went back to their own business.

Moving on, the class arrived at the Rogue’s section. This time Dahlia decided Marcel’s applauded expression was justified.

“Oh my god, where’s the bleach?” Marcel groaned.

“Not like akumas are any better.” Sabrina mused aloud.

“Like Bubbler?” Kim snickered, elbowing Nino.

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” Nino groaned.

Chris, for once, decided not to comment…..considering both his akumatized forms were literally just inverted color knockoffs. Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous.

As they walked further in, Marcel paused as an ominous shudder tingled down his spine. Beside him, a subtle surge of wariness coursed through Dahlia.

“That’s odd…..” the tour guide muttered.

“Is something wrong?” Bustier asked.

The tour guide quickly composed herself and shot Bustier a reassuring smile. “Nothing, just some last-minute changes.” She lied.

“I don’t like this.” Rose said, clutching onto Juleka, her face slightly pale as she eyed the wax statues surrounding them.

Everyone paused as they saw what lied ahead of them. Almost as one, a wave of bone-chilling nausea washed over them as they found themselves face to face with a wax statue of the Crown Prince of Gotham.

Sabrina swallowed, clenching onto her book so tight the pages crumpled slightly. She tried not to think about the police reports she’s read about Joker gas.

“That….looks real.” Nathaniel said, his voice more of a breath as the eerie realism of the wax statue grinned at him.

“ _Too_ real.” Adrianne shuddered, subconsciously fiddling with her ring. Even though it was just a statue, it radiated danger and she wished her class didn’t seem to stand so close to it.

Dahlia’s eyes narrowed. Something wasn’t-

Wait.

Her eyes darted around and it was then she saw the numerous people filing into the room. Seemingly inconspicuous, but she could see- she could tell there were weapons tucked into their pockets alongside hands; she caught a glance as one shared a vague hand signal towards another; she saw the bulging duffel bags containing firearms and bombs and-

Oh shit.

“Marcel-”

The knot in her stomach tightened when she saw he wasn’t beside her.

Marcel felt himself slowly thread towards the as though he was walking on thin ice towards a sleeping predator. His hand clutched the Mouse Miraculous and he swallowed.

The statue…was it….it couldn’t be….right-

There was a blink-

And Marcel found himself staring down the muzzle of a gun.

“Hello children~” The Joker said in a sing-song voice, his maniacal grin stretching wider to show rows of yellow teeth framed by blood-red lips.

“Wanna hear a joke?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit: *happens*  
> Feelings: Solved  
> Shit: I'm back mozefaka *goes ratata again* 
> 
> I'M SORRY MARCEL. Right after one thing gets resolved, shit hits the fan....again. And yeah, using more than two miraculous doesn't just cause fatigue and nausea like in canon Kwamibuster, the backlash can be more serious in this fic. Don't worry, Marcel will be fine...more or less.  
> Let's face it, Lila would also go as far as to imply she has a 'connection' with Gotham's Crusaders because why not? If she can pull off being RB's 'bestie' this probably didn't seem too farfetched for her. The reason why what Alya said set so many off is because some of the Gothamites- ESPECIALLY Dahlia- know that there's a valid reason why certain Robins never stayed as Robins for long....Jason is a prime example. Put yourself in their shoes and think about it, wouldn't you be the slightest bit pissed too?  
> Btw, again, sorry if this chapter wasn't up to your standards as I am still trying to get over my writer's block. Hopefully, I can gradually make progress with this fic and move onto the next one.  
> Regardless, thank you guys for your support. I really appreciate it as it is what pushes me to keep trying. Let me know what you think in the comments below!


	31. Smile Like It’s (Going to Be) your Last; Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the stakes higher than ever, Marcel makes the gamble of his life.  
> Ladybugs were blessed with luck and chance after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry in advance for the short chapter up ahead. Hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless! Let me know what you think in the comments below!

Chaos was unravelling around her like a tangled ball of yarn.

Yet, her ears rang and she was acutely aware of each beat her heart made as time wrapped her in a vice, drowning her body in thick syrup.

‘Is this what father felt like?’ she dully wondered.

Was this what her father, the indomitable Batman felt like all those years ago when his parents were held at gunpoint by some thug with a gun?

Many things happened at once.

And with every action, there was a reaction.

Joker’s finger squeezed around the trigger-

Marcel’s leg shot up, his foot kicking the gun straight out of Joker’s hand just as the first bullet left the muzzle, flying overhead and harmlessly hitting the wall.

Someone screamed- Raincomprix? Lavillant? Couffaine? Rossi? All of them? Maybe more?

At the same time, the sound of fist against flesh rang out as Marcel nailed the Joker with a nasty right hook that would’ve made Todd proud.

Then time released her and like a switch was flipped, the white noise that sang its melody alongside the violence of battle assaulted her mind.

Grabbing the lunatic’s collar, Marcel wrapped an arm around his neck, his foot shifting in between his legs as he pressed his hips against Joker. Shifting his other leg back, he straightened up, pulling at the same time-

There was a ‘THUMP’ as the Crown Prince of Crime landed on his back, the air knocking out of his wide grin.

“RUUUUN!” Marcel yelled at the top of his lungs.

A goon aimed his gun at Marcel and Dahlia surged forward. Grabbing his wrist, she twisted the gun hard enough to break his fingers in the trigger before socking him in the gut hard enough to crack a rib.

“COME ON!” Marcel yelled, grabbing her wrist and running for all he's worth.

At some point, they found themselves caught in the current of the crowd as wave after wave of bodies scrambled like wild animals towards the nearest exit. Bodies pushed and shoved as they struggled to be ahead of everyone in order to escape the kill zone; some stumbled and fell, prompting people to stop in fear of stepping over them but with the unstoppable force constantly moving, many tripped over them anyways, slowing everyone further and making things worse.

Just as they were gradually surging forward, Marcel’s eyes widened as his legs snapped together, immobilizing him.

He lost his grip with Dahlia and fell down to the floor, nearly getting his face flattened by someone’s foot. Glancing down, he saw- were those ribbons?!- binding his feet together.

“MARCEL!” Dahlia called, trying to reach him.

“GO! GET YOUR FAMILY! GOOO!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, his eyes pleading with her to listen to him.

She hesitated for a second.

And then she was gone.

Right as Marcel released a breath of relief, he was nearly deafened as gunshots rang out, peppering the ceiling with bullet holes.

Instantly, like a scythe through wheat, everyone quieted. None dared to make a sound lest they shatter this heavy silence. The goons wasted no time in rounding them up, all of them-knowing full well what the Joker was capable of- forced to comply.

Marcel heard a set of footsteps towards him. He swallowed, feeling his own heart pick up in his throat as the Joker himself stood before him.

And despite the ear to ear grin, the angered bloodshot eyes told a different story. The bruise forming on his cheek- did Marcel sock him _that_ hard?- starkly stood out against his chalk white skin.

“That wasn’t funny.” Joker said to him.

“Neither are you.” Marcel shrugged, trying to mask his nerves under nonchalant sass.

This time the smile dropped.

And it was the last thing he saw before pain flared at his temple as the Joker slammed him with the butt of his gun.

He groaned as stars burst from his vision but didn’t black out. He’s taken worse hits as Red Beetle.

He groggily pushed himself up, trying to ignore the nausea rising within him.

The Joker smiled down at him like a hyena towards a wounded prey.

“You might just be a fun one after all.”

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

‘Oh god, please tell me it’s here.’ Dahlia prayed as she ran across the hallways.

Pressing her back against the wall, she carefully peeked past and saw a guard loitering there. He was distracted, his AK47 lazily grasped as he smoked a cigarette.

Piece of cake.

As he turned around to take a puff, she stealthily walked forward, closing the distance between them.

His cigarette fell down to the ground as his airway was cut off by Dahlia’s chokehold.

He chokingly gasped, eyes bulging out of his sockets before he went limp. Not wanting to kill the man, she released him. Almost absentmindedly, she also stomped out the alight cigarette.

Conveniently, the restrooms were nearby. Bounding his hands and legs, gagging him and disarming him, she locked him in the stall, uncaring if she bumped his head against something.

He’ll live.

But Marcel might not if she doesn’t act _now._

Pulling out her phone, she turned on the signal, sending a straightforward message to the rest of the Bats on the situation at hand.

Entering a storeroom, she pushed aside mops and found the hidden panel in the wall. Using an app on her phone, a hidden panel opened up.

Pressing her palm against the panel, it scanned and granted her access. With a slight hiss, the panel slid away to reveal one of her spare Robin uniforms neatly folded and ready for action.

Grabbing it, she wasted no time.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Adrianne pressed herself flat against the wall. Peeking out, she was relieved to see no goons were posted nearby.

Running as fast as she could, she slipped inside the nearest room and let Plagg come out. As she did, she noticed how badly her hands were trembling.

The Joker.

Out of all the Rogues in Gotham, it just had to be the fu$king _Joker_ himself! _Merde,_ they were really in deep $hit this time. It made their encounter with the Royal Flush gang seem like nothing!

She didn’t know if it was a side effect from wielding Plagg but she could see the pure malicious chaos clinging onto the Joker, darker than any shadow and as thick as tar.

Worse, her Prince was trapped in there with him.

But this wasn’t like with the Royal Flush Gang. She managed to slip away amongst the chaos so she can _help_ this time.

And that’s exactly what she planned to do.

“Plagg! Claws-!”

“Kid, listen to me!” Plagg hissed, interrupting her.

“Not now-” she scowled.

“Red Beetle isn’t here! If he dies, _he dies_ , Adrianne. And he _stays_ dead!” Plagg snapped. “You have to calm down and think smart, this is the Joker. He’s unpredictable and violent and he won’t hesitate to kill Marcel just for a laugh.”

Adrianne faltered. Then she realized Plagg was right.

One wrong move. Just the tiniest shove to push Joker and he’d pull the trigger.

And this time, he won’t miss.

She whipped her head around, frantically looking for some idea-

The vents…..of course!

“I’ve got a plan. Plagg! Claws out!”

* * *

The headache was somewhat subdued now. Marcel could feel a bruise throbbing and a thin trickle of blood but otherwise, no concussion.

He glared down at the ribbons binding his legs. They were too tight for him to untie and the material was tougher than he thought so he couldn’t rip them with brute strength.

He leaned back, taking a deep breath and keeping calm. What he needed now, more than anything, was a clear head. He may not be Red Beetle right now but he was still Marcel Dupain-Cheng, class president and well...civilian ally to his alter-ego.

He swept his eyes across the room, doing a headcount of who was with him.

Max, Lila, Alya, Sabrina, Nino and……crap, Chris.

Said boy shot him an apologetic grimace. As he did, Marcel’s eyes widened when he saw the split lip he was sporting.

What's worse was the trembling Sabrina he was holding onto, pressing a handkerchief against her arm, the cloth steadily becoming red. She was trembling but when she caught his eyes, she gave him a strained smile.

Shock. She seemed to be in shock more than pain so it might just be a flesh wound…….he hoped.

Then her face paled further as did Chris’s, his grip protectively tightening around the girl as their eyes caught something.

Sure enough, the Joker was in front of him once more. He held his hands behind his back. Despite the ridiculous purple suit and crazy green hair, the blood red lips contrasting against his deadly white skin made goosebumps crawl across Marcel’s skin.

Even when glancing to the side, his peripheral caught glimpse of the similar grin etched on the mask of the goons.

Oh god, his nightmare was becoming a reality.

“That was a crazy stunt you pulled there, boyo. Why-” grabbing a fistful of his raven locks, he painfully wrenched Marcel upwards face-to-face. “It’s as crazy as me!” the maniac laughed.

Marcel spat in his face.

Joker clucked his tongue, roughly tossing him down.

“Now that was rude.” Joker huffed, taking out a handkerchief to wipe away the glob of spit.

Marcel said nothing, face stoic and calm but bluebell eyes defiant.

The Joker leaned closer to the point Marcel could feel his hot breath against his freckled skin.

Grabbing his face hard enough to feel the fingers press against his jawbones, there was a gleam as Joker menacingly held a flip knife close to his skin.

“Why so serious?” Joker asked, tilting his head with a look in his eyes akin to what a child looked like while plucking off the legs of an insect one by one.

The knife moved closer, the cold metal pressing against his flesh but not hard enough to draw blood yet.

“You can smile, can’t ya? Or are ya going through your emo phase right now?” the Joker eyed him up and down. “Dressed a bit too bright to fall into that clique.” he fake-frowned.

Marcel wrenched his face away.

“Feisty! Okay okay, no touchie.” Joker said, putting his hands up as though to placate Marcel but the flip knife said otherwise.

“Now kid, you seem smart. So, here’s how this will work. You be a good boy and sit. No heroics, no witty quips and no whining. You try to stir anymore shenanigans and well…” he chuckled darkly, casually waving his gun towards the numerous other hostages, _including_ his classmates. “You know how this shebang works. With a bang!”

Laughing, the Joker stood up and sauntered away, finally giving Marcel room to breathe.

His breath however, lodged in his throat once more when Joker stopped by a cowering Lila and Alya who was glaring at Joker with idiotically bold courage.

“That guy? He’s not funny but he’s fun. A bit crazy but fun so he’s a pass.” Joker said, jabbing a thumb at him. “But you….” His eyes narrowed at Lila.

“Some of my boys here overheard you retelling folk tales of you bein’ the Big Bat’s civilian ally! A real heroic Samaritan amongst the underdogs.” He snickered. “I’ll bet the mutts wouldn’t even wanna sniff those sausage tails of yours.”

Had circumstances been different, Marcel, Alix, Sabrina and Chris would’ve admittedly snickered at the sausage jab too.

“Why don’t you go join the rodeo, clown?” Alya snarled.

“Sorry, partna.” Joker said, faking a Cowboy accent. “Hate ta be an addle-pot but that just ain’t much of a hog-killin time compared to the business I work in now.”

“Business my ass, you’re insane!” Alya snarled.

Joker laughed. He tossed his head back and howled with laughter, bending over double and clutching his stomach.

“AHAHA-OHO- You- you’re funny too, you know that.” He wheezed, wiping a tear away from his eye.

Then he straightened and stepped closer. Alya felt herself shrink, cold sweat prickling down her neck as the Crown Prince of Crime loomed over them, his yellow teethed grin almost glowing in the shadow.

“You two dimwits really have no idea who you’re playing with, do you?” he asked, his smile shifting to one akin of a cold calculating snake.

The doors were kicked open and Joker turned around, giving a horrified Alya and Lila a chance to breathe before they wet their pants.

“Ah! Two-Face! My man! My boi! My good ol’ pal-”

“Shut up, clown.” Two-Face grunted.

‘Oh fu$k.’ Marcel thought.

His face half-scarred grotesquely, his suit perfectly split down the middle with inverted colours, his infamous coin glinting in his fingers was Two-Face. Behind the crime boss, more men filed in, strategically taking positions inside- and Marcel’s willing to bet guarding outside too.

Great, now one of Gotham’s most infamous crime bosses was here too- just fan-fu$king-tastic! This really keeps getting better, huh?! Bad enough Joker was here- now he had to gamble lives with another who literally decides it based on luck and chance-

Wait……….luck and chance………..

He swallowed. This would be a gamble. One of the biggest gambles of a lifetime- and he was still legally underaged!

God have mercy on him and his classmates to live past this day till they actually do reach the legal adult age,

“You should give that advise to Sausages over here.” Joker said, nodding towards Lila. “She’s really full of cock and bull which is saying something since I rise and shine everyday like a cock-a-doodle-doo!”

Two-Face barely spared a glance at her. “Teenage drama.” He scoffed.

“Ooooh drama! I call understudy!” Joker giggled. “But well, I have a better idea.”

He turned towards Lila and Alya, a malicious glint in his eyes. Even though it wasn’t directed towards Marcel, he felt his throat seize in a vice of burning icy terror. Under his shirt, the Mouse Miraculous felt so cold, it burned in his grip through the fabric.

“It’s…hm…” Joker checked his watch and frowned. “It’s been a while now and no bats have shown up. We should teach them a lesson on punctuality.”

“Your point?” Two-Face grunted, crossing his arms.

“Let’s have some fun while we wait! Up the stakes!” Joker explained with jazz hands. Then he bent down in front of Lila and Alya.

“Wanna play a game, girls?” he asked.

Before they could answer, Joker beckoned Two-Face over.

“All yours.” He said with a grandiose sweep of his hand.

“What are you doing, Lila?” Alya hissed. “Kick his butt already, like you did last time!”

“I can’t!” Lila hissed- god how stupid was this girl?!

“Why not?!” she asked.

‘Because if I do so we’ll die?!’ the Italian thought sarcastically. She wondered if she should bother coming up with an excuse of having arthritis spread to her leg if only to get Alya to shut up! She wanted to at least die in peace, damn it!

Two-Face held his coin out before them, showing them each side; one with a smooth head while the other side was scratched off.

“Good heads, you two gals have a chance to walk outta here alive. Bad heads, you meet your family on the other side ahead of time.” He said.

Marcel’s eyes widened and he shouted above the scared whispers and whimpers of the hostages-

“WAIT!”

All eyes swiveled and heads turned, both civilians and villains alike.

“You call _that_ a gamble? You’re an even bigger joke than him!” Marcel went on, jabbing a thumb at the Joker, putting on his most condescending tone.

“Shut up!” one of the goons snarled, pointing a gun at him but Two-Face put his hand up, signaling him to stop. He looked at Marcel, non-verbal but he looked intrigued, compelling him to push on.

“I propose a better wager.” Marcel went on.

“And that is?” Two-Face asked, lifting the brow on the good half of his face.

“Good heads, you let me go and I walk outta here a free man. You also leave those two girls alone- trust me, those b!tches ain’t worth your time. Like you said, lousy teenage drama.” He said, adding an eyeroll at the last part to sell it.

“Hey! Who you-”

“Alya, _shut. Up!”_ Lila snapped.

Alya shut her mouth with a click, glaring at the floor.

“And if you get bad heads?” Two-Face asked.

“You can do whatever you want with me.” Marcel said, voice eerily calm without an ounce of fear.

Bluebell eyes stared at mismatched ones, clear as the sky yet as unyielding as a mountain.

Silence rang between them, stretching as time ticked by. Marcel felt sweat bead his head as the silence became as taut as a bowstring, the arrow quivering to be fired-

“Deal.”

Bullseye!

Two-Face knelt down before him, holding the coin out for him to see.

‘Tikki…..’ he placed his hand over his pocket where he knew Tikki was nestling in. ‘Bless me with your luck.’

In the crowd, Chris’s knuckles turned white as Sabrina held onto him like a lifeline. He cursed at the fates for doing this to them, he cursed himself for not wearing the damn watch Joan had given him.

But right now? Right now, he was praying like a priest to every deity and god that they finally cut Marcel some slack.

The coin was flipped.

It glinted as it swirled, spinning and spinning in mid-air as it descended, each spin with the weight of his life juggling between them.

Two-Face caught it in his palm and slapped it on the back of his fist.

Breaths were held as he took his hand away-

The Good Heads stared upwards at all of them.

Silence.

It dumped on top of everyone in the room like a layer of thick snow. It caught them off guard and the shock numbed them to the bone, rattling all senses.

Two-Face himself seemed just as shocked…. almost impressed actually. Slowly, he craned his head up and looked at Marcel in……shock? Awe? ....respect?

Then he composed himself and took out a knife. Wordlessly, he cut the ribbons binding his legs.

“Move it, kid.” He grunted.

Marcel felt like he could laugh and cry on the spot.

Just as he stood out, slow clapping resonated through the room.

Everyone froze, Marcel felt his muscles tensed, every fiber of his being screaming at him to make a run for the exit now but he forced himself to stay rooted to where he was as his eyes drifted towards Joker.

“You are one interesting cookie, aren’t you chum?” Joker hummed.

“Flattered.” Marcel replied stiffly.

“Lay off him, Joker. He won the wager fair and square.” Two-Face said.

“Well aren’t you a chap! Such good sportsmanship.” Joker said with overzealous enthusiasm.

“I believe congratulations are in order.” He said, extending a hand for Marcel.

Marcel smiled thinly, a smile that wouldn’t melt butter. Yeah, he knew this trick. He could see the spark of electricity crackling off from the joy buzzer on his palm.

“Wanna hear a joke?” he asked stiffly.

Joker cocked his head to the side, eyes bemused.

“How many bulbs does it take to fix a Joker?” Marcel asked with fake cheer.

As swift as lightning, he grabbed Joker’s wrist and twisted it behind his back- pressing the joy buzzer against his back, sending the electricity shocking through his systems.

Pushing him off, he sprinted towards the exit as fast as he could.

He moved fast; combined with the stupefied shock in the goons at the bold audacity he’s displayed, most didn’t even notice he was away until he was two-thirds towards the exit.

Some of the goons recovered from the shock fast enough to cock their guns towards Marcel, fingers ready to pull the trigger-

Too many things happened at once after that.

Had Marcel turned around, he would’ve seen the black clawed hand bursting out from one of the walls, grabbing a screaming goon and pulling him away.

He would’ve noticed the small balls rolling across the ground before they halted and released a screen of smoke that blinded eyes and choked coughs.

By the time the first shot was fired, he was already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The throw Marcel executed on Joker was a Judo technique called Kubi Nage.  
> I also wanted to add Two-Face because considering his dependency on the flip of his coin, it'd make sense if Marcel would take his chance with it. He might not be one to push his luck but when it comes down to chance, he won't hesitate to seize the opportunity, especially with how high the stakes already were. And yeah, Two-Face himself is admittedly impressed because it's not often he finds a teen who not only has the wits but also the luck to actually outplay him.


	32. (Not) A Chapter; A (Really) Quick Question

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ CLOSED ♥

Hi readers. Sorry to interrupt this fic with this question but after sacrificing precious hours of sleep on this question, I've decided to leave it in the hands of the readers. Below are a few simple questions. You can either select A, B, C etc or simply answer with a yes or no.  
1\. On the off-chance that I someday write another Genderbend Daminette/Maribat fic, would you like it to also have Reverse Age Robin? (Dick is the youngest while Dahlia (Damian) is the eldest)

2\. Should Alfred be Marcel's godgrandpa?

3\. Which miraculous should Marcel wield?  
A. Fox  
B. Mouse

4\. Other than Lila salt/bashing, who else should be included?  
A. Adrianne (Adrian)  
B. Alya  
C. Caline Bustier  
D. All of the above

That is all, let me know your opinion in the comments below! Feel free to answer all questions or some questions or even just one if you feel like it. You have free rein to give multiple answers or even alternate ones (as long as it doesn't go too far off the rails) alongside your reasons. But should anyone suggest an opinion that disagrees with another, please keep any rude degrading remarks to yourself. I want to do this all in good fun but also maintaining mutual respect and integrity among the community.

Stay safe, be kind, fu$k capitalism and have a nice day!

Btw, opinions/suggestions can be left in the comment section until 25 December 2020 (🎁🎅Christmas🎄☃️).

* * *

Hi readers! First off, I would like to wish all those who celebrate a very Merry Christmas! I know we're still going through tense times but regardless, I sincerely hope all of us found someway, somehow or someone to find a spark of joy during the festive season.

As I have stated above, answers/suggestions/opinions that are submitted here will no longer be taken into account. If you wish to suggest ideas either way, please do so in another chapter's comment section.

Thank you all so much for the support. Each reply everyone took the effort to provide here has given me the nudge I needed to keep going. I promise to do my best and not disappoint. It's been said that words written can convey words that cannot be spoken; thus, I hope these words of mine can convey the insurmountable gratitude I have for all of you. 🙇‍♀️

Take care and stay safe everyone! Merry Christmas! 🎄


	33. Smile Like It’s (Going to Be) Your Last; Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Knowing how high the stakes are, Marcel realizes they're going to need all the help they can get.  
> Luckily, he knows a thing or two about multi-tasking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I begin, I just want to pour a whole motherload of thanks you's to all my readers and supporters alike cuz holy cow, I did not expect so many to be willing to vouch their opinion in the new fic question form I posted before this chapter! Thank you guys so much for offering your respective inputs, I- I really don't have the words to express my gratitude rn. 😂

“Stay close to me, Brina.” Chris whispered to Sabrina.

He sharply eyed the smoke surrounding them. The slightest jerk of movement, the slightest blur of a silhouette was a wild card that could either make way to friend or foe- and with the way things were, the latter was a higher possibility.

“What about Mar?” she hissed.

“He got out.” He reassured her. ‘And so will we.’

He just needed to think of a plan. This was an opportunity and he’ll be damned if he sits on his ass and wastes it.

“No funny business, ya hear?” one of the goons guarding them warned before turning around-

A projectile whizzed through the smoke and the goon cried out in surprise as he was trussed up like a turkey thanks to a bolo.

A blur of a silhouette flew in the smoke, slamming a devastating flying kick into the goon’s head that knocked his cheesy clown mask straight off his face.

More sharp projectiles followed, swiftly incapacitating the other goons nearby.

Stepping out from the smoke was Robin, it was _Robin._

Chris thought the colours of a traffic light have never looked more relieving in his whole life.

“You two alright?” Robin asked.

He nodded.

“Go.” She commanded, simply nodding towards the exit.

Chris needed no further prompting as he grabbed Sabrina and made his way towards the exit. Glancing behind, he was glad to see his remaining classmates following his lead, including the pig-headed Alya and a trembling Lie-la.

Guess they weren’t _that_ incompetent at least.

He risked a glance back and saw Robin was swiftly beating the crap out of every thug that so much as breathed towards her with extreme prejudice.

Looks like Amber Ruche wouldn’t be needed after all.

But looking at the terrified classmates surrounding him, Chris Bourgeois was definitely needed.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

‘Unforgivable-’ Crack! The jaw gave way under her backfist strike. Pivoting around, she used her katana to deflect two shots fired towards her.

‘Scum!’ dashing forward, she deftly swept one goon’s legs out from under him. Standing back up, she spun in mid-air, slamming a roundhouse kick into the next fiend who was dumb enough to be near her.

Every single one of them were going to be given hell to pay for attempting to hurt Marcel.

……………and Bourgeois, Kubdel and Raincomprix she supposed- they were a decent lot. Plus, Joan would never forgive her if the blonde in particular ever got hurt under her watch.

Ducking under a swing, she stabbed her katana out, aiming to simply wound his calf badly enough to incapacitate. Sticking a hand into her utility belt, she threw three electrocuting bolos that made similar fates fall upon three more goons.

There was a yell and a goon fell down unconscious behind her. Whipping around, she saw a leather cladded blonde nimbly land not too far away.

Emerald green eyes met toxic green slitted ones- the former framed by a green domino mask, the latter by black leather.

Both eyes narrowed at each other behind their respective masks.

“You. / You?!” They both hissed, one noticeably cooler compared to the more indignant one.

“When the hell did Catwoman become a blonde?” one thug actually asked aloud.

Robin’s eyes widened when she saw a muzzle of an AK47 aimed behind Chat Noire-

She vaulted over the sloppy Parisian hero, roughly shoving her down and saving her skull from a bullet in the process. Landing, she tucked herself in a roll and planted her palms beside her head.

Close enough, she straightened her hands into a handstand, slamming the soles of her reinforced combat boots into the thug’s jaw, knocking him out.

“Focus! Never turn your back on your enemy!” she barked at the incompetent blonde.

“No one asked you!” said blonde had the _audacity_ to snarl at her, using her bo staff to painfully jabbed a thug in the solar plexus before pivoting to whack the next one close by. “To babysit me!”

“Where’s Ma-the boy?” Robin asked, catching herself in time. No need for any of these scums to find out about Marcel’s connection to her, lest they try to take him hostage ever again.

At that, Chat froze, her eyes darting around the room. Robin cursed when she realized she hadn’t seen Marcel with Chris either.

Maybe he escaped on his own during the chaos? Maybe he was hiding somewhere in the building like he did during his confrontation with the Royal Flush Gang?

A purple bomb with a maniacal grin painted on it rolled by her feet-

Robin leaped away just as it detonated.

“Hey Girl Goner! Catch!” Joker laughed as he hurled another bomb towards her.

Chat yowled as one exploded too close for comfort. Running on all fours to nimbly dodge them all, she vaulted for cover and found herself next to Robin.

For once, any lingering resentment towards the Gotham vigilante was gone as she turned towards her.

“Got any ideas?” she asked.

Robin tried to peek over-

A rain of bullets assaulted her. She barely ducked in time as the deadly small projectiles chipped away the top of their cover.

“Come on! Aren’t you supposed to be the Girl Wonder or something? Where the hell’s Batman?!” Chat asked and by the gods was Robin tempted to put her to good use as a body shield.

“Shut up, you mangy infidel. I can’t think with your incorrigible yowling!” Robin snapped at her.

Looking to the side, her eyes widened when she saw a small group of goons advanced towards them to flank them, guns primed to shoot them while they were stuck behind cover like sitting ducks-

There was a zipping sound- one that made Chat’s leather ears perk up.

‘Could it be-?’

A familiar red yoyo wrapped around the glass case behind the goons. With a pull, it collapsed on top of them in a shower of shattered glass and metal framing.

“You two alright?” Red Beetle asked, leaping to join them behind cover. His outfit was modified, lacking his coattails with the addition of a black coat.

“Milord!” Chat gasped, relief and joy evident in her voice.

“What are you doing here?” Robin asked.

“To help.” Red Beetle replied simply. “I came with a friend.” He added.

“Who?” Chat asked.

“Time to end this with a bang.” Joker chuckled darkly, tossing one more bomb in his hand.

Pulling the pin, he hurled it towards them-

Chat’s eyes widened while Robin…. noticed that Red Beetle was tensed but calm-

From above, a jumping rope wrapped itself around the rafters and someone jumped-

A grey figure intercepted the bomb as they swung in a blur, kicking the bomb away from them.

“What the-?!” Chat shot up as did Robin, though the latter was more wary.

Their impromptu saviour landed and as he turned around-

“Marcel?!” Chat blurted out.

Red Beetle facepalmed behind her, resisting the urge to strangle her. Way to keep a secret identity Chat!

He glanced to the side and…..yup, Robin heard that.

Robin looked at Chat, not bothering to hide the shock on her face- though the feline hero looked just as shocked as her, pupils thinning to pinpricks and mouth hung wide open.

She looked back at the figure, taking in the mouse-themed attire that had the same magical boy aesthetic as Red Beetle. She took in the soft raven locks and the bright bluebell eyes framed by the pink lace masquerade mask.

_“……..can you……can you give me more time?” he asked, his finger subconsciously rubbing the thread around his neck. “I know I sound like a hypocrite saying this but….there’s some secrets I’m not ready to tell….not yet….not for a while.”_

Oh god-that was Marcel?!

* * *

Marcel ran as fast as he could, making sure to keep a sharp eye and wide field of vision should anyone try a surprise attack. Stopping at a corner, he peeked out and was relieved to see no one there.

Opening the door to the toilets, he stepped in-

The doors of one of the stalls banged, a muffled voice screamed out.

………………….yeah, he’ll try somewhere else.

Opening another door and stepping inside, he found himself in some kinda office. It’ll do.

Pulling the curtains shut and keeping the lights off, he crouched behind a desk for cover- you can never be too safe- and let Mullo and Tikki fly out.

“WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!” Tikki yelled, whacking him with her small paw. She may not be human but one of these days, she swore Marcel’s going to give her a heart attack!

“It was a gamble I had to take, okay?” Marcel yelped in the face of an angry goddess.

“So what do we do now?” Mullo asked, eyeing their surroundings nervously.

Marcel took a deep breath, his face schooling into an expression Tikki was all too familiar with.

One she both trusted yet dreaded.

“I’ve got a plan.” He said. Pausing, he looked over towards Tikki. “I’m reaaaaally sorry in advance by the way.” He added apologetically.

Tikki looked at him, confused and _very_ worried. “For wha-”

“Mullo! Get Squeaky!”

A pink glow embraced him as the bronze Chinese coin morphed into a black pendant with five pink rats, the black thread replaced with a sturdier pink cord.

Taking a deep breath, Marcel stared down at one of his old alter-egos- Mousekateer.

The pink lace mouse masquerade mask with grey mouse ears on his head felt familiar and comfortable. He wore a dark grey high-collared asymmetrical vest with his black sleeves detached, his arms adorned in grey gloves with pink ribbon, black harem pants with pink lining tucked into grey tabi boots and his jump rope was wrapped around his waist like a tail, similar to his yoyo.

“Mousekateer? Why?” Tikki asked, wondering what’s the point considering Chat might be in there and his identity was already compromised.

“We need all the help we can get and……” he hesitated but plowed on. “Da-Robin deserves to know this much….for now.”

Ah, so that’s his intentions.

“I trust you.” She said simply.

Mousekateer smiled, glad that she was on board with this-

His eyes widened and he hunched over as he coughed. Each cough tore out of his sandpaper raw throat, sending a spasm throughout his body as he dropped down to his knees.

“Marcel!” Tikki cried, hurrying towards him. “You can’t do this- you have to stop!” her small paws grabbed the Mouse Miraculous, intent to rip it off his neck if she has to-

“No!” Marcel hacked, rearing away. “I…..” he took a deep breath, standing back up, trying to ignore the metallic taste of blood lingering in his throat. “I can do this.”

Unravelling his jump rope, he wasted no more time.

“Multitude!” he summoned.

The jump rope wrapped around him, encompassing him in a pink glow. When the glow faded, two Mousekateers stood in place.

Wordlessly, he took off the Ladybug Miraculous and handed it off to his copy. Said copy nodded, undoing his transformation before swapping miraculous.

“Tikki! Spots on!”

Now both superhero personas stood in the room.

“Time to bring in the alter egos.” The two of them echoed, sharing a rueful smirk between them.

* * *

Robin watched, both impressed and terrified as Red Beetle and Mar- Mousekateer deftly worked together to apprehend every single thug that came their way. The latter of whom did so with such assertiveness, such fluid swiftness; wielding his jump rope with smooth efficiency that it terrified her.

Because that means he’s done this before; that he’s put his life on the line to fight beside Red Beetle before-

That he could’ve _died_ on the field before while playing an active role.

And Chat _knew_. That backstabbing double-agent infidel knew his identity-

What if she told her dear old father that? What if Hawkmoth knows Marcel is more involved with Red Beetle than he assumed? Worse, what if she tells him about his reappearance here- what he tried to directly harm Marcel?

Reluctantly, those worried would have to wait. Right now, she had to take down that green-haired maniac before he harms Marcel again.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise! The baby bird has formed her own little club!” Joker crowed.

“You handle Two-Face, the clown’s mine.” She coldly told Red Beetle, advancing towards Joker with the calm stride of a panther but the deadliness of a snake.

Joker grinned, taunting her, egging her to make the first move.

She didn’t disappoint.

With a flick of his wrists, throwing knives fell into his palms. Grinning, he held the gleaming blades up and threw them with deadly aim. She swayed to the side, dodging one while using her katana to deflect another.

He dodged her swipe and leaped back. Pivoting on her foot, she lashed her leg out in a hook kick.

He nimbly flipped back and leapt away; the springs attached to the sole of his shoes giving him the boost needed. He cackled at her brief reaction of surprise which morphed to annoyance.

Flipping back once more, he planted his feet on the wall and pushed off towards her with a wild whoop.

Grabbing his outstretched wrists, she roughly hurled him away from her. The lunatic had nowhere near as much muscle mass as any of her brothers, much less the weight.

He bounced to a halt on his feet, still grinning. She could tell he was getting excited, that he was going to enjoy dancing around her-

“Hey rodeo clown!”

A cord- a jump rope- wrapped Joker’s midriff. His eyes widened for a fraction before he was yanked away in a blur.

Robin watched, jaw dropped as Mousekateer spun on the spot, swinging the Joker around in circle after circle, gradually gaining more momentum to the point she was certain his heels would drill into the ground.

The Joker was whooping as though he was on one of those crazy fast spinning amusement park rides before finally, Mousekateer firmly planted his feet down and released the Joker, sending flying _through a wall-_ holy shit.

Mousekateer panted, body tensed as he waited to see the purple suit green haired clown stand up…..

The Joker released a final wheezing laugh and lied there, unconscious.

“………impressive.” Robin remarked.

Mousekateer shrugged, a sheepish smile on his face.

“I think I went a bit overkill.” He said.

Despite everything, she couldn’t stop the proud smile from forming on her face, nor could she stop the warm feeling blossoming in her chest because, fu$k, her boyfriend was badass.

“Trust me, that was as light as you could’ve gone on him.” She said.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Red Beetle was successful in apprehending Two-Face as well. Robin grudgingly had to admit that he did so with approving proficiency- though when asked what happened to Chat…..he admitted that as soon as he managed to tie his yoyo around Two-Face, she’d vanished.

Robin was disappointed but not surprised. To simply leave without confirmation that the threat had been neutralized was extremely irresponsible, lazy _and_ cowardly.

Honestly, how could anyone ever trust someone like that with something as powerful as a miraculous?

As soon as the rest of her family arrived to hit the final nail in the coffin, Red Beetle and Mousekateer slipped away.

Yeah right, as if she’s going to just let them off like that. If they think she’s just going to play along, they’re dead wrong.

She has questions and _she will demand_ answers.

She followed them stealthily, making sure to keep them in sight but far enough so they wouldn’t sense her. Both of them were sharp, she’ll admit. More than once, she was forced to wait longer than she would’ve liked before she continued to follow them.

Pressing herself against a wall, she peeked in through the window on the wall. The blinds were closed but a shelf on the table kept one of the corners propped up.

“You did good out there.” Red Beetle told Mousekateer.

“Thanks.” Mousekateer smiled but it looked…tired, strained. He looked down at himself, taking in his uniform wistfully. “It was good to have a go one more time.”

Reaching up, he unclasped a pendant around his neck. The moment he did, there was a flash of pink and Marcel stood there.

He obediently returned Red Beetle the miraculous, said hero simply nodded, an empathetic smile on his face as he placed the pendant inside his yoyo.

“Bug out.” Red Beetle saluted.

“See you back in Paris.” Marcel joked before exiting through another door in the office.

Red Beetle opened the door-

He was surprised to see Robin standing there, her expression so cold he could use it to nurse bruises but under the lenses of her mask, her eyes were _burning_ with a blaze that could scorch anything.

He opened his mouth to speak-

He didn’t get the chance.

He didn’t even blink but it didn’t matter as it did nothing to stop the green gloved fist from smashing itself onto his cheek. Had it not been for the magic of his suit, he’d be sporting another bruise there…….or a fractured cheekbone.

He blinked, in a dazed shock. He slowly brought a hand up, touching his cheek where it still throbbed from the blow.

 _“You bastard.”_ Robin hissed. Her fists were clenched tight, trembling in barely suppressed fury but her figure remained poised and no less deadly; in control but ready to strike again if needed.

“How long has he been doing this?” she asked- no, she _demanded._

Something told him she wasn’t going to accept anything but a straight answer.

“This is only his second time.” He told her calmly and it was the truth.

“When was the first?” she prodded.

“Three years ago, against Kwamibuster.” He replied.

“He’s awfully proficient despite his limited experience.” She pointed out.

“He’s just that good.” Red Beetle said coolly.

She opened her mouth but Red Beetle cut her off- these Parisian heroes were chipping at her tolerance level.

“Hate me all you want for this, go ahead. But I _didn’t_ force Marcel to do anything. He _wanted_ to do this, he wanted to help you.” Red Beetle said, tone firm.

“You shouldn’t have let him. If you can bring yourself here to Gotham you sure as hell could’ve brought Marcel back to Paris for his safety.” She shot back.

“You really think that would’ve worked? You really think he would’ve gone along willingly?” he asked, cocking a hip and raising a brow at her.

“So you can deal with magically enhanced supervillains but not one stubborn teenage boy?” she snorted scornfully. “No wonder your home has suffered from a masked lunatic for three years.”

Instantly, the professional assertiveness faded and hurt sparked in those eyes. He looked at her as though she just killed his goldfish and slapped him a hundred times over, both at the same time.

And she………….

Why did she feel like…..horrible lowly scum? As though she was a guilty sinner that just spat in the face of kindness?

_Why did those eyes suddenly look so similar to-_

“Then it’s a good thing you and your family’s coming over to make up for my incompetency.” He said, tone neutral and clipped as he looked at her, eyes empty and dull and it seemed wrong, wrong _, wrong_ \- why did she use such a low blow- why was she even feeling so guilty about it all?

He turned around and ran off.

He didn’t look back.

She didn’t chase after him. Pulling her hood up, she turned around and walked away.

She didn’t look back either. She knew he’d be gone.

But the heaviness in her heart sure as hell wasn’t.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Adrianne fiddled with her ring to the point she felt her skin get rubbed red by the metallic surface of it. Her eyes anxiously darted between everywhere towards everyone, desperately searching for that familiar mop of raven hair.

Where the hell was Marcel?!

Weaving through the crowd, she made her way towards Chris who was lingering near Sabrina, the latter of whom was getting patched up from the cut on her arm, courtesy of a bullet grazing her.

Chris glanced up, his blue eyes turning sharp but Adrianne ignored it.

“Where’s Marcel?” she asked.

Instantly, the defensive sharpness made way for alarm.

“He’s not with you?” he asked, voice lowered so no one else could hear.

She shook her head in denial. Chris cursed in French and threw in a few English ones but the vulgar words did nothing to soothe his worries.

“Maybe he’s still hiding in the building.” Sabrina piped in; her arm now wrapped in a clean bandage properly.

Then there was an outcry. They whipped their heads around to see what the commotion was about-

“MARCEL!” Adrianne cried, tears of pure relief springing to her eyes.

She charged through the crowd, uncaring if she shoved a few people in the process.

She tackled her Prince in a hug, said boy almost getting knocked over and barely regaining his balance.

“ _Dieu merci_.” She breathed as tears spilled down. “ _Dieu merci_ , you’re okay.” She choked.

Upon releasing him however, her eyes widened when she saw the bruise on his temple and the thin trickle of blood trailing down from it.

“You’re hurt!” she gasped in alarm.

“Come on, dude. Let’s get you patched up.” Nino said, gently pushing Adrianne away and guiding Marcel towards the paramedics.

Marcel said nothing, walking towards the paramedics, his eyes glazed and faraway. He didn’t even flinch when the paramedic had to wash his cut with stinging disinfectant.

Adrianne’s heart squeezed. Her poor Prince must’ve been rattled by the whole ordeal. As amazing as it was to see him in his glorious one-time hero mantle after so long, she wished it wasn’t under these circumstances.

“Prince….” She said softly, walking towards him though hesitant to reach out.

He blinked and offered her a small smile. It was tired but it was there, it was _sincere_ _and relieved._

“Cat’s outta the bag, huh?” he chuckled.

She laughed wetly. “Hey, that’s my job!” she scolded playfully through tears.

“Marcel?”

Her laughter halted, any mirth dissipating as she heard that voice. She glanced up and her heart squeezed, this time in jealousy as Dahlia walked towards Marcel, her sickening emerald green eyes zeroed in on her Prince.

“Dahlia.” Marcel whispered tenderly, standing up.

For the first time, the Gothamite girl looked nothing like her poised annoyingly calm self; instead, even Adrianne could see the worry and relief spilling from her being like an uncontrollable ocean.

“I……” Marcel choked out, unsure what to say.

Dahlia took him into her arms, gently wrapping her lithe arms around his body, her fingers soothingly carding through his hair. The guilt inside her spiked as she took in the bruise on his temple, the band-aid barely covering the purple patch of skin.

Unlike Adrianne’s tackle, Dahlia’s approach was gentle as a snowflake but as warm and soft as freshly baked bread.

Adrianne couldn’t help but envy that.

“It’s over.” Dahlia whispered into his ear. "It's over, _habibi_. You saved so many innocent lives...including mine."

“I’m sorry.” Marcel choked because like the pathetic boy he was….he didn’t know what else he was capable of doing.

“I……….” he bit back a sob as he held onto her like a lifeline. “I love you.”

Despite all the secrets he still kept from her saying otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you guys say anything about Robin being abusive, keep in mind that one; she has no idea that Marcel IS Red Beetle, she thinks he's another front-liner entirely which is no less jarring and two; put yourself in her combat boots with her mindset. I think we all need to remember that she's had a far from sunshine and rainbows life- not to mention the fact that she already has to cope with herself and Jason dying before along with the possibility that Marcel himself has been eerily close the brink of death MULTIPLE times.  
> And well....like the rest of her family, she has her fair share of emotional constipation. She tries her best to cope but old habits die hard and she can't help but lash out, okay? So cut her some slack.  
> Anyways, I hope I did the action scenes justice as well as the perspectives between each characters. Let me know what you think in the comments below! Have a nice day! (Or night or afternoon or evening, depending on your time zone. 😜)


	34. We (Really) Need to Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One secret down, many more to go. But hey, it's a start.

Marcel turned on his bed, curling in on himself as he coughed once more, the action scraping against his bloody dry throat. His hand shakily reached out, trying to grab the glass of water nearby.

Kaalki whizzed forward and gently pushed it towards him. Groggily sitting up, he took a long sip, grateful for the liquid soothing his throat before collapsing back to bed.

Tikki hovered over, placing a small paw on his forehead and closing her eyes. A gentle pink glow emitted from her palm and Marcel’s face relaxed, the tension seeping away as he slumbered peacefully.

“How bad is it?” Kaalki asked.

“Not too bad.” Tikki replied, relief evident. “He just needs rest… _a lot_ of rest.”

Kaalki sat down and so did Tikki. A plate of sugar cubes and cookies were nearby but neither were in the mood to snack on them.

Upon arriving back at the hotel, the first thing Marcel did was return Mullo to Master Fu before returning to his room and promptly collapsing from exhaustion. Since then he’s been slipping in and out of consciousness, his hazy mind laden with fatigue from the strain of using another miraculous after already carrying two with him on a daily basis.

“…….she punched him in the face.” Tikki said.

Kaalki winced. “She didn’t know?”

She shook her head. “She knows he’s Mousekateer but in her eyes, they’re two entirely different people.”

Kaalki groaned, already seeing another bucketload of hurdles up ahead. “Well this is a complicated turn of events.” She sighed.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“Well this is a complicated turn of events.” Tim groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose at the video playing before him.

Apparently, one or two hostages had been bold enough to record the whole ordeal in the museum- including the part where Marcel had not only gambled with Two-Face _and won_ but also how said boy managed to whoop the Joker’s ass not once but _twice._

At least they had the decency to censor Marcel’s face but the raven hair and bodybuild was still a dead giveaway.

Needless to say, Marcel was becoming quite the online star right now.

Dahlia glared at the screen as though she wanted to annihilate it from every output source to the input systems which Tim would rather not have her do.

“Don’t worry, D. I’m deleting it as we speak.” Barbara said, typing away on her keyboard.

“Any footage or imagery that has a head of raven hair will disappear from the web forever.” Tim reassured as he blocked the comment section to stop anymore remarks from pouring into the gradually expanding section.

Dahlia said nothing. She simply stood up and walked away.

Tim sighed, mentally counting down the seconds…..

Sure enough, he heard the rev of an engine and the screeching of tyres as Robin drove out of the cave.

“……………how much you wanna bet she’s going to see the angel?” Stephanie asked.

“Is that rhetorical?” Tim snorted.

* * *

Marcel groaned, feeling consciousness take a firmer grasp this time. His mind didn’t feel as foggy as before and his body seemed to be a bit rejuvenated.

Yawning, he stretched his arms over his head and slowly propped his body up with his elbows. He closed his eyes to prevent any nausea and was glad his room was dim.

“Marcel?”

He rubbed his eyes and through his messy bangs, he could make out the red silhouette of his kwami.

“Tikki?” he asked, voice hoarse.

“Here. Drink.” She said, pressing a glass to his lips.

He slowly drank, noting Tikki and Kaalki mixed some of the herbs and powder Fu gave him into the water. He savored the soothing substance, already feeling better.

“Thanks.” He said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You gave us quite the shock.” Kaalki said.

“How….long was I out?” he asked, swinging his legs over the bed and sitting up.

“Since you came back from Master Fu’s place.” Kaalki supplied.

He ran a hand through his bedhead hair, stretching his legs as he stood. “What time is it?” he asked, walking over towards the toilet to change into comfier clothes-

“12-” Tikki said.

Marcel almost tripped. “I’ve been asleep for a whole day?!”

“-at night.” She deadpanned. “Marcel, it’s midnight.”

“……………oh. Well….that technically means it’s tomorrow which also means I slept the whole day.” He reasoned to cover up his fumble.

Entering the bathroom, he paused when he caught sight of the small band-aid on his temple, reminding him of the events a few hours ago.

Turning his head to the side, he was surprised to see the bruise was now a pale greenish shade. Peeling away the band-aid, he also discovered the small cut had long ago sealed.

“You can thank Tikki for that.” Kaalki supplied.

Tikki shook her head. “It wasn’t just me.” She shot Marcel a proud smile. “It was also you.”

“I healed myself?” Marcel asked, surprised. Yeah, he’s healed others numerous times but himself? Fu told him he wasn’t at that level yet.

Tikki nodded. “I don’t know how you did it but I noticed you’d sometimes subconsciously heal it a bit when you were sleeping.” She explained.

“I…….don’t recall that.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. All he remembered was the haziness as he slipped in and out of reality and how laden his body was with fatigue.

“………..do you feel pain anywhere else?” Tikki asked hesitantly.

Marcel paused, hand grasping his toothbrush. What did she mean by that? He hadn’t gone up against an akuma or anything so he’s fairly certain he’d been protected throughout the whole fight.

“I’m fine-?”

His eyes widened and his toothbrush fell out of his grasp as a wave of nausea hit him. The world tilted and his hand reached out, grabbing the sink before he could tip over too far.

“Marcel!” Tikki cried, rushing over to cup his face in her tiny paws. “Marcel, close your eyes. Focus on my voice.”

Marcel squeezed his eyes shut and opened them. Focus, focus on Tikki. Focus on that black dot in the center of her head. Focus….focus….keep it together.

The nausea passed and he could stand steadily on his own two feet again. Turning on the sink, he splashed his face with cold water.

“You need more rest.” Tikki insisted.

“Alright, I got the memo. Look, I’ll sleep after I wash up and change, okay? I promise.” He said.

She floated there a moment longer before she conceded. She gave him a small hug, nuzzling his cheek before fazing through the door.

The warm shower eased the tension in his muscles and after brushing his teeth and rinsing his mouth, his throat felt cool and renewed. The feeling of comfortable pajamas against his skin felt glorious.

With that done, he pulled the covers over himself and closed his eyes, intent on going back to sleep………………

His eyes shot wide open as the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. Suddenly, his senses were notched up and his ears were alert for the tiniest of sound.

Outside his window, he heard the flutter of feathers as a pigeon flew away-

The sound was so small he almost missed it but he knew that sound, he’s heard it before. He knew that slight tap, the flutter of cloth through the breeze.

Robin. It had to be her, who else could it be?

He tried to focus on keeping his breaths even and slow. No need to alert her that he knows about her presence. He prayed his exhales weren’t shaky.

The window opened and a small gust of chilly night breeze slipped in, making Marcel glad he has the covers pulled over him.

“I know you’re awake.” She said.

Marcel froze….and decided there was no point in trying to keep up the façade.

Reaching over, he turned on the light beside his bed and sat up. He shot her a small bemused smile.

“What gave me away?” he asked.

“Your breathing pattern stuttered when I opened the window.” She shrugged. “But you might’ve been able to fool someone less skilled.”

“Thanks.” He said.

Robin paused, looking awkward and a tad bit guilty. She took in his pajamas and frowned but it wasn’t directed at him.

“If I’m disrupting your rest, I apologize. I’ll take my leave.” She said, turning around towards the window.

“Wait!” he surged forward to grab her wrist but yelped as his legs got tangled in the blankets, causing him to fall forward.

With lightning quick reflexes, Robin caught him before he tumbled to the floor.

“I really need to stop doing that.” Marcel mumbled, an embarrassed blush creeping to his cheeks.

Robin’s lips twitched up into a teasing smile. “I rather enjoy catching you whenever my presence sweeps you off your feet.”

Her smile dropped however when she saw the bruise on Marcel’s temple-

Wait………something was off.

Her eyes narrowed and she leaned closer to inspect. Marcel shifted his weight back as he tried to keep his balance. His tongue twisted when Robin leaned close enough for their noses to almost touch.

“Uh…..is something on my face?” he asked.

“Your bruise.” She pointed out.

“What about it?” he asked.

“You only got it hours ago.” Suspicion seeped through her eyes. “How is it healing so quickly?”

‘ _Merde._ ’ “Red Beetle healed it!” he blurted out.

“He came to visit?” she asked, tone sharper than intended.

Marcel tried not to wince as he was reminded of the punch she gave his alter ego a few hours ago.

“Yeah. Came to check up on me. Make sure I wasn’t hurt or anything.” He shrugged, trying to act controlled. “He can be overprotective like that.”

“Overprotective my foot.” Robin scoffed.

“Dahlia.” She straightened when he used her real name despite standing before him in uniform. “Don’t blame him. None of this is his fault.”

“He threw you to the frontlines. You, Marcel Dupain-Cheng, who has already contributed for him through various other means _numerous_ times despite the equally dangerous risks.” She snapped curtly.

“Well what was I supposed to do? Run with my tail between my legs while you risked your neck fighting a maniac clown and a crime boss?” he shot back.

“I’m experienced and trained.” She emphasized.

“So am I.” he pointed out.

“ _Twice_. From what your associate’s told me, you’ve only done this _twice_.” She pointed back.

“I don’t need a miraculous to do what’s right; the same way you don’t need powers to be a hero.” He huffed.

“Marcel.” She sighed. Reaching up, she took her domino mask off, startling Marcel at the bold move she risked when they were in a vulnerable location.

She looked at him with the face of Dahlia, the haunted depths of her alluring emerald eyes searing into his soul.

“I can’t bear to recount how many times I’ve seen my family at the brink of death- the times I’ve seen them _cross over_ to the other side. I have seen people die and come back alive, only to witness as they were nothing but a mangled twisted husk of who they once were.” She said, vivid memories of the Lazarus Pit resurfacing.

She looked away for a brief moment- that brief moment where she opened the door fully to show him a glimpse of her full vulnerability- before regaining her composure, shutting those doors once more.

“I don’t hate Red Beetle. Trust me, I know what hatred is and what I’m feeling towards him is quite mellow, I assure you. But understand that I am very upset at this turn of events.” She said.

“Dahlia, I love you but if you’re trying to bench me, that’s not gonna work.” He said firmly, crossing his arms in defiance. “I want to help and I’ll do it whenever and however I have to- have it be as a civilian or as a hero.”

“Then for both our sake’s stick with the former!” she said, exasperation clear in her voice.

“I am!” he replied, equally exasperated.

“A few hours ago, you were kicking ass in a mouse uniform!” she pointed out.

“That was a one-time thing!” she raised a brow. “Fine, two-time thing! I’m not gonna do it ever again, I promise. Let it go already.”

She lifted a finger, her face now grim but serious.

“While we’re on the topic of your alter-ego, I’m going to address a more serious issue at hand. From what I saw earlier, Chat said she knew your identity already. And considering our leather feline’s alliances, you can no doubt guess she’s going to report this to dear old daddy.” She said.

Marcel shrugged, not at all fazed by the possible threat.

“So?” he asked.

Oh mercy, she could feel a vein throbbing in her scalp.

“First of all.” Marcel began before she could spiral into another lecture. “This is the second time I’ve made an appearance as Mousekateer in _three_ years. Every time after the job’s done, I hand over my miraculous.

“Which brings me to the second point.” He lifted another finger. “Hawkmoth’s main goal is the Ladybug and Cat Miraculous. Even if he kidnapped me in an attempt to get the Mouse Miraculous, he won’t get it. So why should he bother with unnecessary trouble?

“Thirdly, I have Red Beetle on speed dial and well…..” he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I have you watching my back so I can sleep pretty easy.”

Fu$k, she wished he’d stop being so earnestly faithful in her capabilities. It made it hard for her to get mad at him.

“Fourthly, we’re all the way in Gotham. By the time I return to Paris, he probably won’t care anymore.” Marcel finished.

“Sound as your reasons are, they are far from flawless.” She sniffed. “You just put yourself in danger-”

“Hey, after everything you’ve learned about me and my home situation, what’s so new about that?” he asked sarcastically.

She glared at him but he wasn’t fazed. Crap, even he’s grown immune to it.

Now more than ever, she must fully master her father’s Bat-Glare as soon as possible.

“What if Hawkmoth sends another agent to Gotham to harm you? He’s already sent that harlot.” She pointed out.

“Said harlot’s harmless now. Hawkmoth wouldn’t be stupid enough to send an actual supervillain overseas. He’s kept his activities under wraps in Paris for three years, I doubt he’d want to start an international scandal now.” He smoothly replied.

“What if he targets you once you return anyways?” she persisted. “And what if Red Beetle’s not there to save you in time?” she added.

“I can take care of myself.” He sighed. “I’m not some helpless-”

His eyes widened and he coughed. His throat turned rough like sandpaper and his tongue felt too big for his mouth.

“Marcel!” rushing forward, Dahlia supported him, gentling rubbing soothing circles on his back.

“W’ater.” He hacked.

Noticing the glass nearby, she pressed it to his lips and he sipped the liquid. But still, he kept coughing.

He pressed a hand over his mouth, feeling something metallic hack forth from his mouth. Taking his hand away, his blood turned cold when he saw specks of blood on his palm.

He hurriedly clenched his fist before Dahlia could notice. He didn’t know if luck was on his side but she didn’t.

He also realized he’s stopped coughing but by the gods, his chest was _burning_.

He blinked as Dahlia pressed a palm against his forehead, brows furrowed.

“You’re burning up a bit.” She said, her tone professional but no less concerned.

“I think it’s the stress of well….everything.” he weakly tried to defend.

She said nothing. Standing up, she refilled the empty glass with more water before taking a pill out of her utility belt.

“Take this.” She said. She said it so sternly, she sounded like a commander more than a nurse.

“What is that?” he asked, eyeing it suspiciously.

“It will soothe your throat and hopefully ease your fever.” She replied. “If it helps, it doesn’t taste bitter or sickeningly sweet like cough syrup.”

He mentally shrugged, deciding he’d got nothing to lose if he takes it. And hey, maybe this combined with some of Master Fu’s medicine will get him back on his feet in no time.

He swallowed the pill without fuss but even after doing so, Dahlia still stood there purposefully.

Walking over, she sat beside him and asked the million-dollar question.

“Marcel, what are you not telling me?” she asked.

He sighed, staring down at his cup, swirling the water inside it as he tried to figure out the right words to use.

“It’s the prime reason you won’t have to worry about me playing hero again, because I _can’t_.” he said.

It was then Dahlia was finally struck with epiphany as everything clicked together.

“The miraculous.” She said.

He nodded. “Anyone can wield it but sometimes, the wielder simply can’t handle all that power. Sometimes they’re either too young or too old, sometimes they’re just not compatible enough with the raw energy residing in the miraculous.”

He took another sip of water before continuing. “In my case, yes, I admit I’m badass when I’m Mousekateer but my body simply can’t handle the power.”

“And that’s why you’re like this.” She finished.

“Yeah.” He sighed. “That’s why I’ve only done this gig _twice_. And in both cases, the circumstances were desperate.”

Dahlia said nothing……and the lack of response nerved Marcel more than any actual response. He watched, gripping his glass tight as she sat there, digesting the information.

Her face was stoic even without the domino mask, giving nothing away save for the slight tightening of her fists or the shift in her eyes.

Finally, she exhaled, long, deep and exhausted. Her shoulders slumped and she pinched the bridge of her nose.

“I don’t know whether to kiss you or slap you right now.” She groaned.

“The former would be more preferable?” he weakly tried to lighten.

“You could have died from wearing that miraculous again!” she snapped.

“And I didn’t.” he replied calmly.

Reaching out, he placed his hands over hers; his covered in blisters and callouses from sewing, hers covered in gloves and guards for protection and combat.

“I’m okay.” He lifted their hands, pressing his palms against her.

“And I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.” He said, giving her a smile as their fingers laced together.

His voice was as soothing as wind chimes, his smile soft as a feather. His fingers laced with hers like the roots of a tree and his eyes brimmed with endless life like stars in a galaxy.

“Hell forbid you ever do.” She said, pressing her forehead against his. “Or I swear on Pennyworth’s china that I will drag you back by your arse myself.”

He chuckled. “I have no doubt that you would.”

Then she leaned away but kept their fingers laced. She had one more question to ask.

“Is this the big secret you were struggling to open up to me about?” she asked.

At that, his fingers tightened around hers, his eyes flashing in painful yearning.

“It’s one of them.” He said, voice barely above a whisper.

Leaning forward, she pressed her lips against his. He was caught off guard but didn’t pull away as he savored the tender moment.

“It’s a start.” She said, nuzzling her face against his.

A beep went off in her comm. Separating from Marcel with an apologetic glance, she answered it.

“Robin here.” She acknowledged.

“Robbery in progress. Probably some stray Two-Face goons we missed. ETA from your location is 20 minutes.” Oracle supplied.

“I can get there in 10. Robin out.” She replied.

Marcel just smiled at her and nodded towards the window.

“Go, _gardienne ange._ _Au revoir_.” He said.

She pecked his cheek one more time before putting on her mask and opening the window.

“ _Bonne nuit,_ angel.” She said, giving him a departing tender smile before grappling away into the night.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Waking up the next day, Marcel felt more refreshed than ever. Smiling, he realized that was the best sleep he’s had in a while.

The secrets were still there, laden in his chest.

But he can finally admit that it feels lighter than ever now that he’s gotten a start on unloading it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I mentioned before, overusing a miraculous, or multiple ones in this case, can have consequences on the wielder's body beyond mere fatigue. But don't worry, Marcel will recover.  
> He doesn't have regeneration like Wolverine per se but he has an enhanced healing rate so to speak. The rate of his healing depends on the circumstances, thus, if he gets enough sleep/rest, he can heal faster but since his schedule is hectic and all....yeah.  
> As for the video, you guys won't have to worry as it has been taken down by Tim and Barbara. I also hope I managed to keep the flow of conversation between Marcel and Dahlia in character. Let me know what you think in the comments below.  
> Btw, I was thinking of doing a filler for the next chapter. One where we can all take a deep breath and reprieve after the whole shebang that went down, y'know. If you have any suggestions for fillers, please, feel free to write it down in the comments section.


	35. When in Trouble, Call (The) Butler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Alfred steps in and becomes Marcel's grandfather whether he likes it or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: There will be mentions of what might be considered as gaslighting up ahead. Please read at your own risk and DO NOT read if it is potentially triggering.
> 
> Oh btw, Jia Long- the Jia is from Jiǎ chóng which is Mandarin for beetle while Long is Mandarin for dragon.

Jia Long panted, sliding down against the wall and leaving a red trail in his wake, courtesy of the lacerations on his back. He hissed at the slight friction between his wounds and the wall behind him.

He cursed at Hawkmoth and cursed whatever deity up there chose to use him as a sick joke like this.

His day had started off wonderfully, for real. He finally made a start to clear his secrets up with Dahlia, they had a heart-to-heart talk that lessened the weight on their chests and he got a decent night’s rest that helped him shave off the majority of the strain from using the Mouse Miraculous.

Then right after he had a decent breakfast, cue the Akuma Alert going off on LadyBugOut.

Naturally, him and Chris dropped whatever they were doing and sprinted off. Unfortunately, Mme. Bustier caught them and they had to waste precious seconds apologizing for running down the corridors like children and being so ‘anti-social with the rest of their respective peers’ seeing as to how they were ‘isolating themselves’ right after eating.

They made their way back to Paris and went straight to the battlefield.....which was the first big mistake they made.

The akuma’s name was Region and Red Beetle had to admit that this time...Hawkmoth really outdone himself.

Region had control over space- she could fu$king _manipulate the spatial region_ as though it was a giant mound of clay she could knead to her will.

The bad part was that Suzaku was put out of commission...the worst part however, was when a solemn Viperion told him the truth.

She had been put out of commission as Kagami; as a civilian caught in the crossfire.

Viperion tried, god he _tried,_ to go back and fix his mistakes but he couldn’t because he was either too far or Region was just too ahead.

It took him 35 times to so much as grab the Dragon Miraculous from Kagami before he was forced to fled lest Region utterly pummel him with her powers.

Red Beetle was glad Viperion chose to do that, because not too long after, he himself got hit with a blast when he was stupidly within the boundaries of Region’s territory.

That was the second mistake he made.

From what he’s been able to pick up, Region’s manipulation over the spatial region was limited to a radius of approximately.....5 feet. Within that 5 feet radius, she can make any and all of their attacks useless- projectiles were deflected like flies, punches and kicks were blocked like a brick wall and even if they get within close range, she could literally blow them away.

Amber could testify the last part. Said hero had been blown straight through a wall and went splashing down into the Seine.

After fighting for an hour while gaining no ground, Marcel unified Tikki with Longg. He ignored the kwamis warnings and protests- he ignored his own voice in his head telling him he could kill himself with this- and did it anyways, becoming Jia Long.

Besides....him suffering a bit of nausea and coughing from wielding the Dragon Miraculous too? That’s nothing compared to how badly he failed Kagami, he deserved it because he was too slow _again_ , not strong enough, not proficient enough-

He had to do this.

Unlike his yoyo or Amber’s trompo or Viperion’s lyre, his sword gave him an edge. Turns out, it was capable of ‘piercing’ Region’s spatial territory so to speak. While she could still block and nullify his attacks, there’s no denying that he was steadily driving her to a wall and gaining ground.

The third mistake he made was letting his ground, allowing himself to be blinded by the invigorating prospect of hope.

He charged towards Region-

The air around him shifted, a bubbling sensation encompassed him-

Region was gone in a blink. She was behind him; her hand was raised-

It’s a miracle the blow that struck him didn’t damage his spine. Turns out she could teleport _and_ create condensed explosions within her spatial region.

When he shakily got up, he realized his hand was no longer grasping the hilt of his sword. Looking up, he saw Region smugly holding said blade in her hand.

He barely managed to say _‘merde’_ in his head before the bubbling sensation came back.

His yoyo whipped around in a blur, his mind gradually spiraling into a frenzy as his eyes frantically darted everywhere, trying to spot Region before she appeared behind him again, using his own blade to slowly wound him with agonizing effectiveness.

At some point, he noted that his suit was becoming a different shade of red, the robe in tatters as it clung to him by threads, the black areas now mottled with a dark crimson shade as well.

He glanced to the side and saw Viperion panting as he knelt there. The usually calm and composed teal-colored man released a cry of anguished frustration, slamming his fist down on the tarmac.

“What....happened?” Jia Long panted. “How....many.....?”

“This is the 18th time.” Viperion hissed. “What am I not seeing?”

“Room for one more?” Amber groaned, showing up beside them.

“You’re hurt!” Jia Long gasped, seeing the stark crimson staining his midriff.

Amber gave him a look that seemed to question his sanity.

“Says you?!” Amber snapped, jabbing a finger to the red trail he left on the wall.

He glanced over their cover and saw Region calmly standing there, waiting for them to come at her again. Amber flipped her the bird- yeah, he was being petty so sue him- before ducking back.

Still sitting on the floor, Jia Long shakily summoned a Lucky Charm. What he got.....left him stupefied.

“What the fu$k?” Amber deadpanned beside him.

“An ophthalmoscope?” Viperion asked.

“A wut now?” Amber and Jia Long asked.

“An ophthalmoscope. Ophthalmologists use it to test the health of the eye during-” Viperion paused, his eyes widening as a lightbulb went off in the musician’s head.

Jia Long himself noticed this and saw Viperion himself highlighted in his mind’s eye as it worked to put the pieces together.

“You know what to do now?” Jia Long asked.

Viperion nodded, his eyes whining with confidence. He stood up, a man with a plan.

“Second Chance!”

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“That is fugly.” Amber grimaced as Jia Long held onto his Lucky Charm.

“A latex mask?” Jia Long echoed, inspecting it. He noted that while there was a gap for the mouth, the mask lacked eyeholes.

“Her manipulation is limited to what’s within her line of sight.” Viperion blurted out.

“Lemme guess, Second Chance?” Jia Long asked knowingly.

With a rueful smile, Viperion nodded.

“So, what’s the plan?” Amber asked.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Region tapped her finger against her elbow, an impatience scowl gradually setting on her features. Where were those guys......

The glowing butterfly symbol formed over her face and she internally groaned as that insufferable bossy voice rang through her head.

**_“Region! What are you doing loitering around?”_ **

“Trying to do my job.” She huffed as though it was obvious.

**_“Clearly you are failing at doing so.”_ **

“Well maybe I’d be a lot more successful if I could concentrate and plan. You gave me manipulation of space, not manipulation of time so shut up and let me do my job!” she snapped.

She hissed as pain suddenly flared through her veins. Her knees almost buckled and she breathed through her nose, trying to stop the nausea flooding through her.

**_“Do not fail.”_ **

The symbol disappeared along with the pain, allowing her to breathe again-

“Now!”

She cried out in surprise, her eyes stinging as a gust of dust-filled wind hit her in the face. Growling, she waved her hand and dispersed the dust.

She grunted as a lyre slammed the back of her head. She turned around and glared with bloodshot eyes at Viperion as the lyre flew back to his hand like a boomerang. The guy stood there, calm and composed, ignorant to the fact that he was well within her blurry range.

She whipped her hand out-

She noticed movement in her peripheral a second too slow as a body tackled her down.

There was a slap of flesh against latex and she released a cry of frustration as a second skin clung to her face, robbing her skin.

Muffled curses escaped her mouth as her hands tried to pry the latex mask off but it stuck to her like an octopus’s tentacle!

“Venom!”

Paralysis gripped her, now robbing of her of her freedom of movement.

Jia Long walked forward, yanking the galaxy patterned scarf off and ripping it apart with extreme prejudice. The familiar akuma fluttered out and he didn’t waste any more time purifying it.

........Viperion hated it. He hated the melody playing from Red Beetle whenever he did that. Whereas before it would be a symphony of victory and triumph, now it was a sullen flow of relief and exhaustion.

Bliss washed over Jia Long as the Miraculous Cure sealed the lacerations on his back, washing away the crimson stains. Beside him, Amber released a breath of relief as the gash in his side no longer spiked with pain.

“You should go check on Kagami.” Jia Long told Viperion.

Separating Tikki and Longg, he returned the Dragon Miraculous to Viperion. With a quick goodbye, he went off.

“Come on, let’s get ba-”

Just as he took out the Horse Miraculous, his skull throbbed and a wave of nausea hit him like another one of Region’s explosions. The miraculous dropped from his hands and he staggered, the world blurring and tilting-

“Whoa!” Amber cried, catching him in the nick of time. “Red? Red!”

He panted, inhaling and exhaling through his nose. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he pushed back the nausea rising from his stomach.

Amber shook his head and picked up the Horse Miraculous.

“Screw it, I’m doing this.” He muttered.

This idiot! This obstinate insufferably utterly ridiculous idiot! He just had to play martyr and put himself through this $hit. Jesus, this guy.......

Their transformations wore off the moment they stepped through Voyage, Marcel’s arm swung across his shoulder in support. Hitching him up, Chris carried him to his bed and laid him down.

“’m fine....” Marcel mumbled, trying to get up but Chris pushed him back down, hand gentle yet firm.

“No, you are _not_.” Chris gritted out. “ _Bon sang_ , what the hell were you thinking using two miraculous again?! Do you want to die and let Hawk-b!tch win?!” he snapped.

Marcel ducked his head down, eyes guilty. “I had no choice-”

“Bull$hit!” Chris snapped and fu$k, he was almost yelling now. “You could’ve let me wield it, you could’ve let Viperion wield it!”

Marcel didn’t say anything, unable to come up with any rebuffs.

“Marcel, we’re a _team._ We’re supposed to _work together_ \- the whole point of you giving us these miraculous full-time was to lighten _your_ load. Why aren’t you letting us do our jobs?” Chris asked, painfully exasperated.

Marcel sighed. God, he was too exhausted for this.

“Chris, look I-”

He got no further as his eyes widened. His body jerked forward, his heart almost pouring out of his mouth as he coughed and coughed and coughed, each one rougher and raspier than the next as it tore out of his throat.

“$hit- Mar!” any frustration towards him faded as Chris patted his back.

The Marcel pushed him away before making a beeline towards the bathroom-

His knees barely hit the floor before he was throwing up into the toilet bowl.

Each retch made his chest burn and he gripped the seat until his knuckles turned white. Chris was beside him, patting his back while Pollen helped keep his bangs out of the way. Outside, he heard cups clatter and water pour as Tikki and Kaalki rushed to grab the medicine he needed.

For a while, he stayed there, dry heaving as he tried to make his heart slow down, everything within his line of sight either too blurred or acutely sharp to the point of dizziness and his head rolling in agony.

Finally, the aching burn in his chest eased and he could turn his head without feeling nausea swirl.

“.....you good?” Chris asked.

“Yeah.” Marcel panted.

The blonde helped the ravenette up, steadying him on his now shaky legs. He guided him to sit and saw a plate of soda crackers with a cup of water and the needed herb capsules with a separate cup of tea.

“Here. Sip slowly.” Tikki said, passing him the cup of water.

Marcel took small sips, letting the water rid the lingering taste of bile in his throat. With that done, he took the tea next.

When he made a move to grab the herb capsules, Tikki stopped him.

“Not yet. It might make your vomiting worse.” She said firmly.

“No point in taking it in if you’ll just spit it out again.” Kaalki added.

Marcel buried his head in his arms, closing his eyes. He shakily exhaled, this time he tried to hold back the tears because fu$k, he was just....so......tired.......

The weight behind his eyelids made itself known right then and there.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

When he opened his eyes again, he found himself staring at the ceiling.

Did he.....pass out while standing? No wait, the softness underneath him indicated he was in bed.

He felt tired but at least he didn’t feel dizzy anymore. Sitting up, he was glad his body didn’t respond with nausea, nor did his chest ache.

“Feeling better?” Tikki asked.

“Much better.” He agreed, getting off his bed.

“How long was I out?” he yawned as he sat down to nibble on some soda crackers.

“A few hours. You were out the whole afternoon.” Kaalki supplied.

Marcel hummed, eating his soda crackers and taking a long sip of his tea. So he was out that long huh? At least nothing came up......................

Wait..........

WAIT-

He did a spit-take as his memory slapped him with the reminder that he was supposed to go to Wayne Manor _in 5 minutes_ to continue working on their commissions!

“Marcel?!” Tikki asked. Oh, what was it this time?!

 _“Merde!”_ he cursed, shooting up to his feet and scrambling to grab his supplies.

A few more colorful choice words spilled out as he struggled to rip his rumpled clothes off to don newer more civil ones. Pulling the turtleneck over his head, he grabbed a handful of herb capsules.

He popped at least three in his mouth, ignoring the choked bulged eye look Kaalki gave him and the squeak from Tikki as he gulped the rest of his tea in one-go to swallow it all.

“Come on, let’s go go go!” he yelped, snatching the two kwamis down mid-air and shoving them into his messenger bag as he made a mad dash towards the lobby.

* * *

Tim tapped the mouse with his index finger, his cup of coffee long since gone cold beside him. He took a sip and grimaced at the temperature of his precious beverage.

So Marcel was a magical furry-themed superhero named Mouskateer himself, huh?..........wow.

Then again, considering how Bruce’s in love with a former thief in a catsuit.....yeah.

Did Dahlia and Bruce share a similar type? Was it really genetics?

Pushing those aside, he went back to the matter with a more serious approach.

It made sense, honestly. Marcel’s build, his quick-thinking, the natural calmness he carries when faced with dilemmas that would make the average person freeze up, not to mention the fact that he was already a close civilian ally to Red Beetle connected it all.

It'd make sense that Red Beetle would entrust Marcel with a miraculous should the situation be desperate enough. According to Dahlia however, Marcel _can’t_ wield one as his body simply couldn’t handle it. Thus, he was often a last-ditch back-up member so to speak.

Pity though, Tim saw the footage and instantly noticed how Marcel moved- and boy did the guy have moves! – so assertive and proficient despite claiming to have only done so _twice_.

Was he really just that good?

It took a while but through the combined efforts of himself and Oracle, he found a few clips of surveillance that witnessed the whole Kwamibuster fiasco. And true to what Marcel told Dahlia, that is when Mouskateer made his first and seemingly last appearance.

Tim crossed his arms and reclined in his seat, frowning.

While he didn’t distrust Marcel, he’d be lying if he said he trusted him 100 percent either. Don’t get him wrong, Marcel’s a good person, he can tell he’s honest, genuine and sincere in all his advances; he took their family secret rather well in stride and even mended things between him and Dahlia fairly smoothly all things considered.

But he was hiding something from them- Tim didn’t know what exactly but it was _something._

That something could be anything and so far, Tim had _nothing._

.........yeah, as if that’s gonna stop him.

* * *

Marcel placed down his pencil, the renewed creativity he poured out into the new sketches still felt refreshing under his skin.

He looked at the new designs, nodding in satisfaction at the altercations he added. He’s glad he chose to do so- they made all their outfits look so much more....special, more meaningful compared to before.

He set off to make slight adjustments to the muslin mock-ups. Measuring the length of the skirt, he trimmed off the excess and pleated it.

As he stood up however, he swayed, feeling his balance go whack and the world tilted on its axis.

His hand shot out, grabbed the chair before he lost balance completely. He gasped, trying to blink away the spots rimming his vision and the small taste of bile rising in his throat.

Gritting his teeth, he grabbed his temples, massaging them. He pulled the chair out, the legs roughly scraping against the floor, before his legs gave out completely and he collapsed into it.

Leaning forward, he opened the window, glad the small breeze was enough to supply him with fresh air but not strong enough to send anything flying. He took deep breaths, inhaling the fresh air he could snatch from the window.

‘Focus....focus on something other than the nausea.’ He told himself.

Lifting his head, he gazed at the mannequin wearing the muslin mock-up. Yeah, focus on that; visualize the layering of chiffon, every stitch, every hem, every embellishment he’ll use down to the tiniest rhinestone.

It worked and gradually, the nausea faded.

He released a breath of relief and bent down to pick up the needles and measuring tape he dropped, glad he could do so without feeling his head swim.

There was a knock on the door. “Come in.” he said, carefully placing the needles back.

Alfred’s face peeked in, his signature tray of tea in hand alongside a delicate assortment of dainty biscuits.

“Alfred!” Marcel said, perking up at the sight of the British butler.

“Master Marcel.” Alfred acknowledged formally with a polite nod of his head. “Forgive my intrusion but I thought you could use a bite to eat before resuming your duties.”

“It’s fine. I’m not hungry, really.” Marcel waved off.

His body decided to betray him by letting out a grumble.

Alfred dryly rose a grey but no less elegant eyebrow. Marcel’s cheeks turned pink and he cursed his weak body.

“That was....my new ringtone.” He lied lamely.

Alfred said nothing and Marcel didn’t know if that was polite or mocking. Regardless, the butler placed the tea and biscuits down before him.

“Enjoy.” Alfred said, turning to leave.

“Wait!” Marcel called after him.

Alfred turned around. “Do you require something else?” he asked.

Marcel smiled at him. “Some company would be nice. Come on.” He dragged another chair over, eyes inviting. “I think we both deserve a break.”

Had this been anyone else, Alfred would’ve insisted he had more pressing matters to attend to and take his leave......then again, if this had been anyone else, he never would’ve hesitated like this in the first place, much less bring out his favorite china.

“It would be discourteous of me to decline such a kind offer.” Alfred said, his lip twitching slightly in a small smile.

He couldn’t help it. Anyone could tell that Marcel had that sincere kind charm to him that never failed to set anyone at ease. Try as he might, even Alfred can tell Bruce has grown a tad bit attached to the boy.

“How are you, Marcel?” he asked.

Marcel perked up as though Alfred just sung him praises. He always felt warm whenever Alfred dropped the posh professionalism around him and simply sat there to offer amiable company.

“Been alright.” He replied, taking a sip of his tea. “Earl grey?” he noted.

Alfred hummed in confirmation, taking an appreciative sip himself.

“How have you been these past few days? Anything of interest to note?” Alfred asked, a knowing glint in his eyes.

“Well........” Marcel trailed off, making vague hand gestures.

“I know what happened at the museum.” Alfred said, putting down his teacup and looking at him seriously.

Marcel sighed. Why did this have to come up? So much for a ‘normal’ conversation.

“Then you’ll know that everything went fine. _I’m_ fine, _everyone’s_ fine.” He said, tone reassuring yet eyes slightly pleading with Alfred to drop it.

“With the presence of Robin, Red Beetle, Chat Noir _and_ Mouskateer on the case, there’s no doubt about that.” Alfred hummed.

Marcel slumped in his seat. Darn it, Alfred was one shrewd cookie.

“Marcel.” Alfred said, voice turning stern but concerned. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“It was my plan, I had it under control. What’s important is that both Joker and Two-Face were subdued before anyone could get seriously hurt.” Marcel said.

“....how did Mistress Dahlia take it?” he asked.

“She punched Red Beetle in the face.” Marcel deadpanned. “She quote unquote doesn’t ‘hate’ him but she sure as hell isn’t appealed at him, much less my ‘association’ with him.”

“Well in her eyes, she just saw the love of her life throw himself at a maniac while donning a mouse outfit, presuming said love is able to do so thanks to an associate of his seeing his life as expendable.” Alfred deadpanned in return.

“Alfred, that was literally the _second_ time I ever wielded the Mouse in _three_ years. I haven’t wielded it since then.” Marcel said while tracing the rim of his cup.

Alfred could feel a migraine coming, he just knows it. Goodness, this boy is as obstinate as the rest of them!

“Perhaps that may be the second tie you’ve wielded the Mouse specifically but it isn’t the second time you’ve wielded more than one miraculous at once now, is it?” he pointed out.

“I only do it when it’s an emergency!” Marcel protested, trying to ignore the slight throb the burn in his chest gave saying otherwise.

“I will indulge you in another tidbit about my ‘empath powers’ so to speak.” Steepling his fingers, he leaned forward, blue eyes boring into Marcel’s soul. “Aside from sensing the presence of another wielder, I can also see their ‘auras’.”

And oh, how long it’s been since he has! When he first met Marcel that day, he instantly saw the red pink aura embracing him, gentle but brimming with life, rippling with creativity.

As he stared at him now however, his eyes could just barely detect the linger extra layer of another aura which could’ve only originated from the presence of another miraculous.

As if that wasn’t alarming enough, he could see another layer, clearer and recent compared to the other. This one was a fiery red with sparks of gold, curling like a thunder cloud but as elusive as wind.

“You not only did it once but you have done it twice already. In fact, I’m betting my favorite vacuum that you merged another mere hours ago.” He stated.

Marcel flushed as Alfred easily peeled past any possible defenses and dragged him out into the open. Thinking back, Alfred couldn’t possibly be Batman which made sense because this dude was even more of a force to be reckoned with compared to the Dark Knight!

“I had no choice.” He said.

“You have a team, I’m certain you had other options besides yourself.” Alfred pointed out.

“Well if someone has to do it, it might as well be me!” Marcel snapped. He hated that he was lashing out at Alfred like this- he didn’t deserve it but _bon sang_ , he was sick and tired of everyone lecturing him!

So what if he bled? So what if his bones broke? So what if his body is torn apart and collapses from strain? He can take it, hell, he’ll face it! He’s been doing this for three years and he’s still standing there alive, wasn’t he? He didn’t die unlike the other civilians and friends who did because of his incompetency.

“I know I ask for you guys to help me but that doesn’t make me any less capable of being independent. I _know_ what I’m doing, I know the risks and I’m more experienced compared to my teammates. My body is used to the strain and I recover faster than them so it’s only natural I do it so none of them can be put out of commission for too long!” He went on, each point he let out making the burn in his chest rise but he brushed it off as his temper rising.

“I already know how to take care of myself when I face the backlash, I know the treatment I need and how to do it and did I mention I know how to take care of myself? I’m fine and the last thing I need is for someone to come baby me and point out that I’m not invincible! I know already, I get it, oka-!”

Any other words he wanted to get out lodged in his throat as his breath hitched. His hand shot up to his chest, fisting his turtleneck with a knuckle-white grip and the burn spread further, searing his skin.

He vaguely heard Alfred call out in alarm but he couldn’t even respond before his other hand shot up to cover his mouth as hacking coughs tore out of his throat. His entire body racked with coughs and gasps for breath, his temples throbbed and his eyes felt like hot jelly balls in his skull.

His throat was as rough as sandpaper and it felt as though a blade was dragged across it when he released a giant cough that stole the air out of his lungs. He shakily took his hand away and through his blurry vision, he saw the clear blood on his palm.

Alfred noticed and- $hit $hit $hit, he was going to tell the others, he was going to tell Dahlia and he was going to make her worry again. He can’t do that to her, he can’t make her go through that again- hasn’t he been selfish enough? He can’t be a burden to them-

He shot up to his feet, a wave of nausea shooting through him as he did so. Alfred grabbed him, tried to support him- or restrain him? Stop him from getting away?

His hands shot out, shoving Alfred away and he staggered towards the door, throwing his shoulders towards the doors and it burst open.

Facing no resistance, he staggered outwards and nearly fell face-first, barely recovering himself in time. At this point, the throbbing in his skulls and every beat of his heart was the only thing resonating in his ears. Everything else was muted as though he had cotton in his eardrums.

Turning around, his eyes widened when he saw Tim and Bruce down the hallway, the two Waynes pausing as they saw him standing there, leaning against the wall as his shaky legs barely supported him- crap crap crap-

He turned around and ran off.....or well, he tried to. His legs refused to cooperate and the bile was getting harder to hold in. He heard his name being called but it was muffled and he ignored it.

Someone grabbed him- Alfred, it was Alfred he realized.

“’m fine.” He muttered, words sounding like a mix between a groan and incoherent slurs. “Le’ go.” He growled, trying to shove the butler away.

“Marcel, don’t make this more difficult than it has to be!” Alfred said firmly.

“’M FINE!” he snapped, yanking his hands away with all his might.

His body twisted from the extra force-

His ankle twisted on the floor as well, sending his body into a half spin-

The blurry world spun before it tilted on its axis-

He blacked out before his back hit the floor.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“How is he?” Bruce asked.

Alfred twisted the wet cloth before placing it on Marcel’s forehead again. The ravenette was lying on the bed, body eerily still but chest rising and falling steadily to make a clear indication that he was in the world of the living.

“His fever has gone down somewhat.” Alfred noted when he checked his temperature.

“How did this happen?” Dick asked.

Alfred paused for a second, contemplating his choice before ultimately coming to a compromise. Adjusting the damp cloth on Marcel’s forehead and assuring that he was comfortable, he turned towards the others to explain.

“The miraculous.” He said simply.

“Wait, using a miraculous could kill you?” Dick asked, aghast.

Alfred shook his head. “Not that fatal, god forbid it. No, but from what I’ve learned, when one uses a miraculous, sometimes their bodies simply cannot handle the raw energy that originates from them. In Marcel’s case, he utilized a miraculous that wasn’t compatible with his body. Thus, he is now facing the consequences as his body tries to recover from the strain he went through.”

“But he seemed fine when he was fighting with it.” Tim pointed out.

“Adrenaline is the best painkiller as you all know fairly well.” Alfred pointed out.

“So is pixie boy gonna be okay?” Jason asked. Ever since meeting Marcel, he’s seemed to have made it a habit to call him that. Alfred supposed it was his way of voicing his fondness and approval for the boy.

“He’ll recover and live on. He’s too stubborn to die, much like a group of boys I know.” Alfred reassured, giving them a knowing look as he said the last part.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Jason quipped shamelessly.

“You sure he’ll live after Dali finds out about this though?” Dick asked, addressing the elephant in the room.

And in all honesty? Even Alfred had no answer to that though he did wish Marcel good luck.

Perhaps fate will finally give him the tiniest of reprieves......one could hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point, Red Beetle no longer says 'no more evildoing for you little akuma' when he purifies it since he's matured and become more serious. Looking back, he finds it childish that he'd say something so cheesy. And as stated before, Lucky Charms aren't always straightforward so I hope I did it right in here. Also, I'll admit that Region's powers were inspired by the abilities of Minerva from Fairy Tail.  
> As you can see, Marcel still has a habit of putting too much on himself sometimes. He even has an unhealthy habit of justifying his suffering- I think it's called gaslighting? Anyways, the point is, sometimes he doesn't know when to pace himself accordingly but that's why Alfred, Dahlia and the Batfam are here!
> 
> (Chris: AM I INVISIBLE?!)
> 
> Oh, and Chris, kwami and co. Them too.
> 
> (Chris: Ridiculous, utterly-  
> BA: SHUT UP AND GET AWAY FROM THE 4TH WALL ALREADY!)
> 
> Anyways, let me know what you think in the comments below. Again, if you have any suggestions or opinions, feel free to express them so long as they are reasonable. Fluff, filler and possible ideas to drive the plot are welcomed by anyone. Oh! And if you haven't yet, feel free to check out chapter 32 and leave your answer there! The more the merrier! 🤗 Stay safe, stay sane and take care everyone!


	36. (PLEASE) Take Care of Yourself!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcel learns that there's no such thing as being a burden. While he has to carry plenty of them, he's shown that doesn't have to do so alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Mentions of toxic teaching up ahead. If you are not comfortable with that form of content due to bad experiences in school, please do not read. Read at your own risk.

Adrianne tapped her foot, fidgeting the ring on her finger as she waited for Marcel to open the door. She frowned as a full minute passed and she got no respond.

Raising her fist, she rapped the door again, only for the sound of knuckles against wood to resonate back at her in an almost taunting way.

What was taking him so long? Where was he? Was Marcel taking a nap? Should she leave him be?

“What are you doing here?”

Adrianne whipped around and saw Sabrina standing there. She noticed the gingerhead eyeing her with suspicion, the grip on her book tight but she sensed no animosity so she’ll take that as a small win.

“I wanted to talk to Marcel.” Adrianne replied.

“About?” Sabrina asked.

“Just....y’know, talk.” Adrianne said, making vague gestures with her hand while rubbing the back of her neck.

“He’s not around so don’t bother.” Sabrina said with a shake of her head.

Adrianne frowned. “Where’d he go?”

“How should I know?” Sabrina shrugged.

“Is he out alone?” Adrianne pressed, feeling trickles of panic course through her veins at the notion that Marcel was alone out there in dangerous Gotham.

“What are you, his mom?” Sabrina snarked.

Adrianne grabbed her shoulders with more force than necessary, making her drop her book. Sabrina’s eyes widened as Adrianne’s face hovered inches from hers, her green eyes taking on a toxic green shade- it was just the lighting playing tricks, right?

“Sabrina, where is he?” Adrianne hissed- Sabrina could’ve sworn she heard a growl reverberating in the blonde’s throat.

“I don’t know!” Sabrina yelped.

“Oi! Hands off!”

Adrianne was yanked off Sabrina, the former blinked in surprise while the latter released a breath of relief. Standing protectively in front of Sabrina was a very ticked off Chris.

“What the hell were you doing to her?” Chris growled.

“I was just asking a question!” Adrianne huffed, crossing her arms and looking away.

“Well you ain’t gonna find answers here. C’mon, Brina. Let’s go.” Chris huffed, turning around.

“Wait!” Adrianne called. Chris turned around in acknowledgement at least. “Do you know where Marcel is?”

“He’s out.” Chris replied simply.

“Out where?” Adrianne specified.

“What’s it to ya?” Chris asked suspiciously.

“I’m worried for him. He’s my friend too, Chris.” She said.

Chris had his doubts on that last part.

Regarding the question at hand though, Chris had a sneaking suspicion that he _did_ know where Marcel was. Then again, he was under no obligation to tell Adrianne.

“You have his number, why don’t you just call and ask?” he pointed out.

Adrianne froze, as though the thought hadn’t occurred to her. Her lips formed a realizing ‘oh’ and her cheeks flushed when the simple solution finally slapped her.

“Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous.” Chris sighed before leaving with Sabrina.

As soon as they were far away however, Chris whipped his own phone out.

“What are you doing?” Sabrina asked.

“I swear if that idiot is where I think he is, doing what I think he’s doing.....” Chris growled as he impatiently waited for Marcel to pick up.

“Hi-”

 _Oh mon dieu!_ “Mar-” His hopes were instantly dashed by the next words on the other end.

“This is Marcel’s voicemail. Leave a message after the beep. Beep.” He heard a slight chuckle at the end before the message ended.

“Fu$k.” Chris cursed.

“What’s wrong?” Sabrina asked.

“I’m gonna strangle this guy, I swear-”

“CHRIS! Details! Please?” Sabrina snapped.

“Oh right, right. Long story short, Marcel merged two miraculous earlier and came back a mess. I left him when he fell asleep and I’ll bet after he woke up, he went to Wayne Manor to work on their commissions. Being the idiot that he is, he probably went anyways despite not having enough time, much less rest, to fully recover.” Chris supplied.

“.....how bad are the backlashes, really?” Sabrina asked, voice uneasy.

“Oh you know, some nausea, maybe a fever, your stomach gets fu$ked up.....you....cough blood.” Chris admitted.

Sabrina’s eyes looked ready to bulge out from behind her spectacles as her face paled.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got someone that can help.” Chris reassured.

Scrolling through his contacts list, he finally found one of the more recent numbers he added.

* * *

The first thing he noticed was the dryness of his throat. How his tongue seemed to swell too big for his mouth with the texture of wet sandpaper. He tried to swallow but tasted bitter bile and metallic blood. On a brighter note, his chest no longer burned and while his mind was groggy from exhaustion, it was no longer throbbing from nausea.

When he shifted, he felt something soft rub against him. It encompassed his entire body, over and under and he was vaguely aware that there was something cool, damp but soft on his head.

He slowly cracked his eyes open, his eyelids reluctantly moving back to allow light to filter in. The lights were off but he could still see his surroundings clearly- was a window left open?

It was also then he realized said surroundings were unfamiliar to him.

‘Wha-?’

He slowly managed to make his stiff muscles comply, propping him up on his elbows. Dazedly looking around, he realized that he wasn’t in his hotel room. But where-

Wait.........no...he....he left the hotel and went to....Wayne Manor- yes! Wayne Manor! For the commissions and.....and..........

His eyes widened as it came back to him.

Sitting down for tea with Alfred.

Talking about the risks he took on.

Losing his temper, venting it out on the butler.

The burn in his chest flaring and spreading; agony coursing through his body while nausea infiltrated his mind.

Frantic desperation to get away- to find a place to rest and heal away from others, without being a burden, without causing more trouble-

Darkness.

The doors creaked open and Dahlia came in, seemingly getting off the phone with someone. She froze, standing in the doorway, her emerald green eyes widening as she took in Marcel, now sitting in the bed, _awake and alive._

Marcel smiled weakly, managing to lift a hand to wave at her.

“Mornin-”

“Shut up.” She deadpanned.

Marcel snapped is mouth closed. Glad he did cuz if he didn’t, he’s positive his heart would’ve leaped right out of his throat.

With unnerving calm, Dahlia dragged a chair over and sat beside Marcel. Once again, Marcel could sense the anger flaring under her seemingly composed front, rippling like waves and crackling like a storm begging to be unleashed.

“I don’t know whether to hug you or strangle you right now.” Dahlia said slowly, as though carefully choosing her words.

‘I’d prefer the former more than the latter, thanks.’ Marcel thought internally, not daring to voice it out lest he pushes her over the edge.

Dahlia sighed, tucking some stray locks of hair behind her ear.

“Marcel, if you were unwell, you could’ve just called or send a message. You are under no obligation to come here everyday to work yourself to the bone!” she snapped.

“The Wayne Gala is approaching and I can’t keep procrastinating! I’ve barely even finished the mock-ups, much less started on the actual outfits themselves!” Marcel protested-

He instantly regretted snapping like that when his throat protested. He choked, feeling phlegm lodge his throat.

Dahlia cursed, fetching a glass of water on the nightstand and grabbing a tissue.

“Here.” She said.

Nodding in thanks, Marcel spat the phlegm out- ignoring the specks of blood in it- and drank the water, said substance bringing instant relieve to his throat.

Tossing the tissue into the nearby bin, he downed the rest of the water. Dahlia said nothing, patiently waiting for hi to finish and courteously refilling his glass should he need more.

“Back to the topic at hand.” Dahlia started the moment Marcel put his glass away, her tone instantly returning to its former stern no-nonsense all business approach.

“You claim to not want to be a burden yet you push yourself ragged to the point you collapse and become unfit for work. How does that make you any less of a burden? Are you not becoming an even bigger burden by doing so?” she went on. Even though he was her boyfriend, there's no way in hell she was going soft on him if it meant getting him to see proper reason.

Marcel winced. Yup, he can definitely see Dahlia’s Robin side merging with her right now.

“ _Habibi_ , I thought we’ve talked about this.” Dahlia sighed, her stern tone morphing into a pained one. “I’m here for you, my family is here for you- we _want_ to help. We _can_ help and we’re willing to help. Why won’t you let us?”

“They’re my own problems- problems I’ve been able to deal with before just fine on my own. Yes, I admit what I did earlier was rash but I’m fine now after some rest.” He defended.

“Fine my foot, you were coughing up blood! Your pulse was through the roof and your fever was over 38 C.” she listed off.

Marcel blinked in surprise. It was _that_ bad? Sure, he’s gotten a bit feverish and weak after using multiple miraculous before but it’s been a while since the backlash was _this_ bad.

“I........I’m sorry.” He sighed. “I overestimated myself.”

Dahlia said nothing and from the look in her eyes, she wasn’t convinced that he was anywhere near ‘okay’ just yet. She reached over and grabbed the tray of medicine and pills on the nightstand.

“Here.” She said, holding out a spoon with cough syrup.

“I can take it myself-”

Rolling her eyes, she shoved the spoon into his mouth. Taken off guard, his eyes widened and his throat swallowed the medicine.

Marcel gagged and Dahlia passed him the glass of water, seemingly quite satisfied with herself.

“I could’ve choked!” Marcel replied indignantly.

“You were the one who said you were quote unquote ‘okay’.” Dahlia huffed, placing the tray back and arranging the contents neatly.

“........are you mad at me?” he wanted to slap himself for asking such a dumb question.

“No, I’m all jolly and sparkles.” Dahlia replied sarcastically.

Then she placed one of the medicine bottles down more force than necessary, rattling the pills. She whipped around and glared at him but it was a mask that lacked anger.

“You’re lucky Pennyworth was there when you collapsed. What if you’d collapsed in that room alone and hit your head on the table? You would’ve gotten a concussion or worse, you would’ve damaged your skull and end up in a coma!” she snapped.

“Next time I’ll wear a helmet and bubble-wrap suit, happy?” he said, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“Is your well-being a joke to you?!” Dahlia asked. “Have you ever stopped to consider how everyone else around you would feel about this- how _I_ feel about this? How Pennyworth feels about this? How Bourgeois, Kubdel and Raincomprix feels about you running yourself to the ground like this?

“You think we’ll feel any better knowing we were helpless to help you while you dealt with all the burden yourself? You think we enjoy the feeling of helplessness- of letting a loved one down when we could’ve helped them in their time of need?”

Dahlia felt her chest rise and fall as her wave gradually ran out of water, reducing itself to a narrower flow that persisted through nonetheless.

She was....she was angry. Yes, she was angry at Marcel but not at him specifically, rather, she was getting angry at his unyielding stubborn walls.

Was this what everyone felt like when they were dealing with her father’s emotional constipation and unrelenting paranoia?

Marcel looked away. His chest was constricting again but it wasn’t burning, rather it felt like a dagger was twisting it in pain. He felt a lump form in his throat but this time, he wasn’t trying to hold back a cough.

Was he........was he really being selfish all along? All this time, all this time he just wanted to help more, to lessen burdens....has he been doing the opposite of that? Had he deluded himself into thinking he was helping when really, he was being even more selfish towards them in the long-run?

“I............I....didn’t know, I.........” he curled in on himself. He hugged his arms and pulled his knees up, tightening into a defensive ball as his bangs fell over his face, hiding his vulnerable eyes away from sight.

‘$hit.’ Dahlia thought. Oh crap, she just made him feel worse and now he’s never going to confide in her-

“Since I was a kid, I was always the one doing stuff.” He said softly. “I was....a doormat, honestly. I was that one kid everyone would go to ask favors for, knowing I would help and ask for nothing in return.

“It went on like that.....and if the teachers knew, all they’d do is praise me. They said I was being a role model, a good student, a kind thoughtful friend and a compassionate figure. They ‘encouraged my kindness’ and I....I thought they were right. I saw nothing wrong with it and stuck with the flow.

“It went on until _college_ ; free pastries, free commissions, last minute babysitting, arranging field trips, organizing fundraisers.............” he trailed off, eyes distant.

“I’ve always been the one to _take care_ of burdens. It’s just who I am. The thought of _becoming_ a burden....becoming something I see that I’m not in my own head....it’s just....something I don’t want to become. Something I can’t see- can’t accept myself becoming.” He finished with a sigh, blowing his bangs out of the way.

Dahlia was shocked into silence. She knew Mme. Bustier had negatively affected Marcel throughout his life but she never thought the damage went that deep.

And from what she’s heard, Mme. Bustier wasn’t the only one- many others before her had unintentionally manipulated Marcel, molding him into becoming someone that would harm himself in the long run without knowing nor caring about it.

Her heart went out for Marcel and she cursed at every being out there who took advantage of his pure kindness.

“You know....I used to think the same way.” She said, getting off her chair to sit on his bed beside him.

His eye peeked up from under his bangs.

“Growing up, my grandfather saw me as inferior. Desperate to earn his approval- desperate to prove my worth, I heeded his beck and call without question. My mother, whom I suspected to also wish for his approval- was no less ruthless. She....she loved me, she made that known and.....and I loved her too, but she never went easy on me.

“She drilled discipline and independency into my skull, ensured that confidence and tenacity were one with my bones and she would tell me that if I were to prove that I am not a burden, I must be able to amount as a mountain of burdens in the eyes of my opponents to deal with for I am just that much better than them.”

She cringed when she thought back to her younger self. “Needless to say, I was, quite frankly, a real pain in the ass to deal with as a child.....still am now. But here’s the difference between then and now.

“Then, I had accepted that my mother would not help me in order to ensure _I_ didn’t become a burden. Now, I accept that my family- that my father, brothers, sisters and Pennyworth, _will_ help me to ensure I _never carry_ any burdens on my own.

“The point of the matter is; _you aren’t_ a burden. You simply _have_ burdens which by definition is too heavy to carry on your own.” She finished.

Marcel sat there, eyes no longer distant, but pensive as he thought deeply over the words Dahlia opened up to share with him.

Reaching over, she patted his shoulder, leaning forward to give him a light peck on the cheek before standing up.

“I’ll tell the others you’re awake. I won’t ask them to bother you.” She said before closing the door, leaving Marcel to mull over her words.

* * *

Chris crossed his arms, scowling at every car that passed by them on the street. If looks could kill, car accident rates would be skyrocketing at this point.

“What’s taking them so long?” Chris groaned.

Sabrina said nothing, keeping her eyes peeled as they waited for a ‘Pennyworth’ to come pick them up.

Checking his phone, he didn’t see any messages or calls from Dahlia. He’s tried texting her but they were left at read- the audacity of that girl! – and calls weren’t answered.

Stuffing his phone back into his pocket, he sighed and pulled the collar of his jacket around his neck as a chilly wind breezed by.

“What are you two standing around here for?”

Turning around, they saw Alix stand there, looking at them inquisitively.

“We’re going to see Marcel.” Sabrina supplied.

“Where is he?” Alix asked.

“Wayne Manor.” Chris replied.

Alix’s eyebrows shot up. “His girlfriend’s house? You sure that’s a good idea?”

“Marcel isn’t feeling well but being the boneheaded nitwit he is, he went to the Wayne Manor because he had to help them with a commission- yeah, they requested for MDC originals.” He explained.

Alix whistled.

“Serious fact of the matters is- Marcel is sick, Alix. Like...I’m not kidding, he was seriously messed up. I got a call from Dahlia and she confirmed he’s collapsed there.”

“$hit.” Alix said, eyes widening as the urgency settled in. “Is he okay?”

Chris shrugged. “Last I heard, he was knocked out cold so they decided to let him rest for a while. That’s why Brina and I are headed over now, to check up on him.”

“Then let’s go already! What are we waiting for?” Alix said.

“Dahlia said she’ll send someone- excuse me, _‘we’_?” Sabrina noticed.

Alix rolled her eyes and set her hands on her hips. “I’m Marcel’s friend too. You two aren’t that special.”

“.........aw what the heck, sure, why not?” Chris decided.

Unbeknownst to them, a certain brunette smirked, ending her audio recording. As the trio entered the car, she snapped a photo before hurrying to look for a certain teacher in a blur of orange.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“I don’t know if I should hug you or strangle the $hit outta you right now.” Chris said but inside, relief surged through his veins and contrary to what he just said, he was tempted to kiss Marcel and thank the heavens for finally cutting him some slack.

“Attempt the latter and I will end you, Bourgeois.” Dahlia said coolly from Marcel’s other side.

“Do you mind? Us bros wanna have a moment here.” Chris glared.

“And not too long ago, you were threatening to do the same thing.” Marcel added.

“Traitor.” She glared at both of them.

Meanwhile, Sabrina and Alix were thanking Alfred for helping Marcel- the former doing so profusely while the latter took a casual but no less sincere approach.

“You guys didn’t have to harass Dahlia into bringing you here, you know. I’m fine now.” Marcel chuckled.

His chuckle turned into a yelp when both Dahlia and Chris promptly smacked him upside the head.

“We came cuz we _care_ , you jerk. Y’know, cuz we’re friends? Bros before foes? Has our friendship seriously done nothing in the past three years?” Chris huffed, looking offended at the last part in particular.

“And we didn’t harass Dahlia, we swear.” Sabrina added.

“Don’t look at me, I just hopped on the wagon at the last minute.” Alix shrugged.

Marcel smiled at them regardless, this one filled with gratitude. “I’m...glad, guys. I’m just...really glad you’re all willing to go through so much trouble to be here. It means a lot to me.”

Chris rolled his eyes but it lost its effect by the fond playful punch he gave Marcel.

“The hell are friends for?” he asked, a rare smile on his usually cocky rich-boy face.

“And girlfriends.” Alix added, nodding towards Dahlia.

“Come on guys, group hug!” Sabrina called.

Dahlia turned, taking that as her cue to leave-

Only for a hand to grab her wrist and yank her into the group hug.

She froze, body stiffening as hands wrapped around her body. Her mind screamed at her to smack those hands away and disengage, she doesn’t deserve to be a part of this-

A hand snaked around her waist and raven hair came into her vision.

“Where do you think you’re going, Wayne?” Chris asked dryly despite having his face smushed by Sabrina’s hair.

“I....” she cleared her throat awkwardly, her ears red. She still wasn’t used to mushy friendship moments outside of Joan.

“Oh hush, you’ve got our approval.” Chris sniffed.

“You’re officially stuck with us till the end of time!” Alix said with a tone that eerily reminded her of Todd when he was scheming chaos.

“And I promise it’s not as bad as it sounds!” Sabrina added with more earnest cheer.

While Dahlia was still as stiff as plywood, she didn’t try to pull away either.

* * *

“How much do they know now?” Chris asked that night.

It took quite a bit of persuading, begging and bribing- with pastries on Marcel’s part- but eventually, they managed to convince the Waynes to let Marcel come back with them though not before each of them gave him a lecture on self-care.

“As far as they’re concerned, I’m only like this because I became Mouskateer and that I overestimated myself.” Marcel supplied, reclined on his bed comfortably as he played a small game of flicking sugar cubes at Kaalki to catch.

“So none of them know. Good.” Chris said, nodding in satisfaction.

“Besides Alfred, yeah.” Marcel said.

“Besides Al- wait, WHAT?!” Chris asked, whipping his head around so fast he almost got whiplash.

Ah right, Marcel hasn’t told Chris that yet.

“Alfred? As in the butler?” Chris prodded.

“You know any other Alfred with the Waynes?” Marcel said dryly, raising a deadpanned brow.

Chris shook his head, slumping down in his seat. “It’s always the butlers. Somehow they know it all- _they just do_.” He muttered, half to himself.

Marcel hummed, agreeing wholeheartedly.

Back in Wayne Manor, Alfred sneezed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, hope I kept the flow of conversation in character. I also apologize in advance if Marcel's recollections of how his teachers treated him and molded him into being a compliant yes-man brought back bad memories for anyone. Next chapter is going to be more fluffy, I promise. After that, hopefully we can move on to the moment we've all been waiting for.  
> Anyways, let me know what you think in the comments below!


	37. A C(h)at

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcel sees Dahlia's soft spot for animals; Plagg has a chat with Robin.

Marcel hummed in excitement; his insides fluffy yet giddy with anticipation for the place he was going to visit today.

Thankfully after proper rest and care- more like overbearing fussing in his opinion- courtesy of himself, his friends and the kwamis, any lingering strain in his body from the miraculous overuse has dwindled away.

Today they were going to visit Gotham’s Animal Rescue and Rehabilitation Center funded by none other than the Wayne Foundation. Dahlia herself admitted that she staunchly supports the facility and is even said to not only volunteer there but personally see to it that every staff member is quote unquote ‘decently competent at executing well-prepared tasks’.

He pulled over a simple graphic t-shirt and stonewashed jeans. Pausing by the mirror, he frowned at his still messy hair.

‘I should fix that….’ He mused, foraging through his luggage for his bobby pins.

Grabbing a handful, he picked up his comb but paused when he belatedly realized he knew little to nothing about styling one’s hair. It doesn’t help that he’s never really bothered with fussing over a seemingly trivial matter, constantly leaving his hair be.

Maybe he should’ve taken Chris’s advice more…….

“What’s wrong, Mar?” Tikki asked.

“You think I should just leave it be?” he sighed.

His kwami however took on a pensive look, twirling a raven lock in her hands. Then her face lit up, an idea no doubt springing forth.

“I’ve got an idea. Do you trust me?” she asked, grabbing two of his bobby pins and gesturing for Kaalki to come over to help.

“Yeah?” He replied. She looked pretty eager and he didn’t want to dampen her mood so might as well give the benefit of a doubt.

Unbeknownst to him, Kaalki decided not to mention the various online makeover/ hairstyling tutorials they had been watching for quite some time now whenever he wasn’t looking.

* * *

Dahlia glanced down, satisfied to see her uniform free of wrinkles and lint. Looking at the mirror, she paused as she realized her hair seemed to have grown slightly longer.

Tying her hair half-up, she rolled the remaining locks and pinned it up in a neat chignon. She hummed, satisfied that the hairdo made her look more mature and professional.

‘Hope Marcel likes it.’

She flushed at the unbidden thought though she couldn’t deny that she did hope her boyfriend would approve of her hairdo….....trivially shallow as that was.

“Look at you, baby bird.” Jason cooed. “All grown up and business-like.”

“Your opinion is unwanted but nonetheless noted.” She replied.

“......so you talked it out with your boyfriend about the whole $hit show that went down at the museum?” he asked, not beating around the bush anymore.

“Yes, we have.” She replied, this time turning around to look at him properly. “Rest assured, any rifts between us have been closed.”

Jason stared at her, surprised when he saw that she meant it. She truly looked relieved and less burdened compared to a few days ago.

“Happy to hear.” He smiled, hand raised to ruffle her hair only to have it smacked away.

“Please refrain from undoing my hard work.” She huffed.

“Of course, you gotta look your best for lover boy after all.” He snickered.

A brush was hurled towards him in response, swiftly followed by a comb, a compact mirror and lotion bottles.

* * *

Adrianne perked up when she saw Marcel enter and felt her heart skip a beat when she noticed his hairdo. She skipped over to him, glomping him with a smile on her face- a genuine one she hasn’t done in a while.

“Good morning, Prince~” she sing-songed.

Marcel chuckled, patting her blonde locks. “Morning, Adrianne. Someone’s in a good mood.”

“I am now that my Prince Charming’s here.” She winked. Then her face turned serious. “Actually, I wanted to talk about-”

“Morning, Marcel.” Ivan said as he passed by, unintentionally interrupting her.

“Oh!” he said, taken off guard by the polite acknowledgement. “Morning, Ivan.” He quickly composed.

“Good morning, Marcel.” Mylene said. Then her face softened in concern. “I don’t mean to be rude but is your.......” she trailed off, tapping her temple.

Marcel’s hand shot up towards the bruise. He didn’t even feel any pain from it anymore and Tikki had taken the initiative to use his hair to cover it....actually, he didn’t even see a bruise there anymore.

He smiled reassuringly. “It’s fine now after some ice and a good night’s rest.” He said.

Once the couple were gone, Marcel turned towards Adrianne, eyes curious. “You were saying?”

Adrianne opened her mouth-

“Well if it isn’t our Everyday Hero.” Alya said, sauntering over to him.

Oh come on!

“Morning to you too.” Marcel said dryly.

“So.” Before he knew it, her phone was being shoved into his face- wait, when did she get a new phone? “As we all know, you whopped the Joker’s ass _twice_ , gambled with Two-Face and _won_ and _lived_ to tell the tale. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Marcel felt his brow twitch, suddenly he had the urge to punch something- not someone though, god forbid that.

He looked at Alya, disgusted by her polite smile which did nothing to hide the hungry eager shine in her eyes. After everything she’s done, every harsh word she’s thrown at him, the betrayal she stabbed him with- she just waltzed up to him to demand he tell her about a traumatic experience he went through barely two days ago?!

“No comment.” He said, gritting his teeth and forcing his calmest tone out.

“Oh come on, it was days ago!” Alya insisted.

“Trauma doesn’t disappear in ‘days’!” he snapped back.

“You act as though this is new.” She rolled her eyes. “Come on, we’ve all been in tight spots with akumas, how is this any different?”

Marcel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. It was too early for this $hit. And he _just_ got over nausea and migraines.

“You’re an idiot with no self-preservation or tact whatsoever.” He grumbled.

Alya bristled and Marcel walked away without sparing her another glance.

“Prick!” she snapped at him.

Adrianne wasn’t one for violence but damn, she was tempted to strangle Alya for once.

“B!tch.” Chris huffed as he showed up beside Marcel, having seen and heard everything. “Morning.”

“Morning, Chris.” Marcel greeted.

“You should just get a restraining order on her already.” Chris shook his head, turning around to see Alya stomp off.

He also took note of his best friend’s hairdo. And no, he was not jealous that he wasn’t the one who got to do it.

“Did you master the lost Art of the Comb?” he teased.

“A small friend of mine helped create this miracle.” Marcel winked.

“Wait till your guardian angel sees it.” He nudged.

Marcel flushed at the thought, a bashful smile spreading across his face. It’d be good if he can woo Dahlia a bit after all the worry he put her through.

“Can you believe that guy?!” Alya fumed to Lila. “He can’t even give one decent comment like a civil guy!”

“Maybe that’s just his way of coping with trauma. You know how boys like to act tough.” Lila mused aloud.

Alya rolled her eyes. “He’s probably just trying to victimize himself to wrap everyone around his finger.”

Lila had to stifle a scoff at the pure irony this hypocrite reporter was spouting. No wonder Marcel had no qualms about letting his so called ‘bestie’ go after a while.

“Alya, that was very unethical.” Adrianne said and for once, both girls were taken aback by the sternness in the teen model’s tone.

“Before you go on about how we’ve all dealt with akumas, might I remind you that Joker is not an akuma. Akumas are victims who were manipulated against their will, the Joker is _pure chaotic evil incarnate_ simple as that.

“And may I remind you, _both of you_ , that you owe Marcel your lives after he gambled his own against two-Face to save your hides despite everything you’ve done to him. Don’t you think the least you guys can do in return is cut him some slack? At least for today?” Adrianne said.

“...................whatever.” Alya grumbled, finally letting it go.

Adrianne released a breath of relief and smiled.

Maybe today would be a good day after all. It’s certainly better compared to the recent one.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“I can’t wait to go back there. It’s been so long since I’ve visited the place. I hope all the poor creatures I saved with Elisa Aaltola are doing alright.” Lila tittered on.

Marcel stared at the ceiling of the bus, trying to zero in every fiber of his attention to the tiniest details on it. You’d think Lila would’ve tone it down a bit after her lies almost got her killed by two of Gotham Rogues. Three if you count Ace from the Royal Flush Gang.

“I almost wish you’d kept your mouth shut and just let Two-Face shoot her.” Alix groaned.

“I actually got shot you know.” Sabrina bristled, gesturing to her arm, the bandage hidden by her sleeve.

Alix winced. “Sorry, Brina.” The pinkhead said apologetically over her lack of tact.

Marcel eyed the bangles on Lila’s wrist and the high-end jacket she wore. He shook his head, pitying the clothing she wore more than the wearer herself. That outfit was not suited for what they planned on doing today.

Lila glanced back and saw Marcel’s hairdo. She licked her lips, oh how tempted she was to stroke those locks......

“I heard your friend Dahlia volunteers at center. Will we be seeing her there?” Mylene asked, bringing Lila back to earth.

Fixing a wistful smile on her face, she reassured them that yes, Dahlia volunteers there but she can’t guarantee she’ll be there today specifically.

Oh well, soon Marcel and his friends will be taken care of anyways. And if that ‘girlfriend’ of his tries to get in her way?

Well....a queen has her ways.

* * *

Dahlia looked over the boxes, mentally noting the contents within each one and where they needed to go before counselling the clipboard in her hand. She nodded, glad that the shipments were on point and in good condition.

“Ms. Wayne?” one of the volunteers called. Dahlia turned and saw it was an older girl with short curly black and violet highlighted hair, her vest marking her as one of the more experienced staff.

Her name was Amelia- though she insists everyone calls her Mia- one of the senior volunteers who Dahlia deemed as competent enough for proper acknowledgement.

“Yes, Mia?” Dahlia asked.

Her co-worker seemed shock before she perked up, smiling brightly.

“That’s the first time you called me Mia.” She laughed.

Dahlia paused as she realized it was in fact, the first time she addressed her by a friendly nickname.

Crap, she was getting soft.

“Did you ask for my attention to trade pointless banter?” Dahlia asked, quickly composing herself.

“Sorry, just wanted to let you know the Parisian class sponsored by your father will be arriving soon.” Mia supplied.

“I see.” Dahlia nodded. “Thank you for bringing this to my notice.”

“I can take care of this. You better go check up on the kittens- we all know you’re their favorite.” Mia chuckled.

“What’s there not to like?” Dahlia replied and....even she was surprised by the good-hearted sass behind her words in place of her usual haughtiness.

Mia froze and Dahlia turned on her heel, swiftly striding away, internally chastising herself for slipping not once but _twice_.

As she walked, she made sure to double check that not a single staff was slacking off, not hesitating to snap them back into doing their jobs with scathing words and reinforcing her haughty but competent HBIC image.

She too had a reputation to uphold, tedious as it is.

She saw Marcel’s class up ahead and smiled, making her way towards them.

Marcel blinked in surprised when someone grabbed his bicep and turned him around, his mood instantly brightening-

His heart skipped a beat, the greeting lodging on his tongue-tied mouth when he laid eyes on Dahlia.

Unlike all the other times they met, this time she’s taken to tying her hair in a chignon. It made her look mature but no less beautiful as it enunciated her jawline and the elegant slope of her neck and shoulder.

Dahlia herself was briefly taken aback by her boyfriend’s hairdo.

While still seemingly soft and messy, his bangs on one side were slicked back from his forehead and focused on drooping alluringly on the other side. A combination of some hair gel and bobby pins were used to tame some of his cowlicks, making his hair appear neater than it usually is.

Chris, Sabrina, Alix, Nathaniel, Juleka, Rose and the kwamis watched this exchange, bemused that both sides seemed to be starstruck by their respective lover’s altercations in their usual style.

“You’re beautiful.” Marcel breathed out.

That snapped Dahlia out of her stupor. She allowed her ‘Wayne charm’ to slip out and smiled coyly at him.

“So you’ve noticed?” she asked.

“I mean-you’re always beautiful, it’s not like you’re only beautiful now when you tie your hair like this- you just look more mature- no offence, I mean you’ve always looked mature, just that-I-uh.... you.....this.....it...really suits you.” Marcel fumbled, face turning redder and redder until he was positive he was going to pass out again.

Small snickers emitted from his messenger bag and Chris’s fanny pack.

Dahlia leaned forward and kissed his nose, calming him down from his spiral.

“You look rather dashing yourself.” She teased, playfully flicking one of his cowlicks.

“A friend of mine helped me style it.” Marcel said.

Inside his bag, Tikki and Kaalki glowed in pride.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“His name is Liam.” Dahlia introduced, tenderly cradling a bombay kitten. There was some scar tissues around its left eye and one of its hind legs ended in a stump.

“He was saved from a burning building. His owners didn’t survive and he didn’t exactly come out unscathed himself.” She said, gazing at Liam in sympathy, her eyes radiating a rare softness for all to see.

“But you made it out, didn’t you? You’re a fighter like that, a survivor.” She cooed, nuzzling her face with Liam who mewed, relishing in the affection.

Marcel felt his heart do a skip- his girlfriend was a real softie for animals, wasn’t she?

Dahlia bent down, as she did her shirt hitched up slightly expose a band of skin. Marcel pointedly turned his attention towards a cat toy left strewn on the floor.

Setting Liam down, she pointed towards another cat, this one a calico. “Her name is Adenium.” Bending down, she stroked a maine coon. “And this is Celosia.”

“You know the name of every cat here?” Marcel asked, stroking the chin of a nearby cat who purred in appreciation.

“Of course.” Dahlia said as though it was obvious. “I will help run it someday after all.”

“You’re already doing that.” Mia chimed in. “This girl right here is one of our staunchest supporters. She volunteers on a daily basis and sees to it personally that we’re well equipped and well-staffed.”

“I can state my credentials myself, Mia, thank you very much.” Dahlia sniffed.

“Don’t let the HBIC Ice Queen façade fool you. One puppy eye look and she’s a puddle of goo.” Mia whispered to Marcel as though sharing juicy gossip.

“Amelia Hartson, another word of slander and I will fire you right this instant!” Dahlia bristled.

Marcel reared back slightly in surprise as three cats standing nearby hissed at Amelia as though....they were defending Dahlia, feeling just as defensive as her.

.........talk about crazy coincidence. That or Dahlia has a natural affinity with them, an invisible bond.

“Yes ma’am.” Mia yelped. “I’m gonna go check on the dogs. If you need any help, feel free to ask.” She added to Marcel.

Dahlia drilled a hole in the back of her skull with a withering glare as she went off until she was out of sight. Huffing, she sat down, allowing Celosia to comfortably settle herself on her lap.

“She was just teasing. She meant no real harm.” Marcel said, sitting down beside her. A cat nimbly hopped up beside him and Marcel petted him.

“She should know her place.” Dahlia huffed.

“Don’t be such a sourpuss.” Marcel pouted. “C’mon, smile~” He said, poking her cheek.

She turned away, unwilling to give him the satisfaction.

“She looks a lot like you right now.” Marcel mused aloud, staring at a grumpy Persian cat. “Wouldn’t you agree?” he asked the cat beside him.

“C’mon, _ange_. Smile.” Marcel coaxed, nudging her.

“Make me.” She said stubbornly.

Marcel pouted. “So mean. She’s a real meanie, ain’t she?”

Purrs and meows resonated back as though in reply.

Dahlia glanced down upon feeling something soft rub against her leg. Her face softened when she saw Liam there, looking up at her in silent yearning.

She picked him up and placed him on his shoulder- she knew he liked staying perched there. His claws dug into her clothing and pricked her skin slightly but she didn’t mind.

“Hey Liam, you think you can make sourpuss here smile?” Marcel asked Liam.

Liam purred, as though humming in thought before gently pawing at Dahlia’s cheek, seemingly trying to find a hidden button to quirk her lips up.

As though he flipped a hidden switch, more cats sauntered over, prowling around their legs, rubbing their soft furred bodies against their calves. Some hopped onto their laps or clung to their shoulders while others leapt onto higher perches to watch them from afar.

“We’ve attracted quite the crowd.” Dahlia remarked casually as though she wasn’t covered in a layer of cats.

“Ya think?!” Marcel yelped, slightly overwhelmed by the numerous cats seeking attention.

Dahlia felt her lips quirk up, a chuckle escaping her throat as she watched Marcel release small ‘ows’ while a kitten used its claws to climb up his back and nestle itself into his soft raven locks.

Instantly, Marcel straightened up like a cat finally finding its favorite toy.

“There’s that smile!” he said triumphantly.

“Hard not to when my adorable boyfriend is drowning in cats.” Dahlia agreed.

Marcel laughed and Dahlia found herself laughing too, albeit hers was quieter but no less happy.

They had to spend the next half hour getting cat fur off their clothing but both knew they wouldn’t trade the moment they just shared for the world.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“Whenever I’m with my mom in India, I try to make time to hang out with Claire. I met her after helping her stop a gang of illegal poachers from smuggling ivory.” Lila bragged to her sheep.

“Excuse me ma’am, coming through.” One of the workers said, hurrying past Lila to look for medical supplies. In his haste, he accidently bumped the Italian and didn’t apologize due to the more pressing matters at hand.

“Hey!” Lila called out. She huffed, patting her jacket and scrunched her nose when she saw fur on the area where he’d bumped her.

‘Stupid Gothamites! Have they no manners?’ she scowled.

Hearing laughter, Lila turned around and her eyes narrowed as Marcel came back, hand in hand with Dahlia.

Lila scowled upon noticing Dahlia. Her fury flared further when she saw that Gothamite whore holding hands with Marcel, laughing with him and tenderly staring at him as though she’s already won, as though she’s permanently staked her claim on him.

_“You can’t even do something wrong right. Then again, it’s not all that surprising. Disappointing but not surprising at this point.”_

_“Why would I waste my time on something as irrelevant as you?”_

_“Unlike you, I have productive things to do in my accomplished life other than spew garbage and increase pollution.”_

Like hell she’s won this war!

She stormed towards the couple, her mind churning with every possible plot she could execute, every harsh word she could throw at that impudent b!tch for daring to cross her-

She nearly tripped as a dog ran too close for her. She yelped and regained her footing, glaring at the canine. Just as she did however, she yelped once more as something tugged her back-

Much to her horror, she turned around and saw a dog gnawing on her new jacket, ruining the material and getting disgusting slobber all over the high-quality clothing.

Screeching, she yanked it out of its maw, resulting in a rip. To add salt to the wound, she tumbled back and the platform heel of her boot stepped on top of a dog toy, causing her foot to shoot out from under her.

She fell down, resulting in a nasty bruise on the back of her head and a cry of pain mixed with a shriek of frustration.

Dahlia smirked, ending the video and keeping her phone in her pocket.

Feeling a tap on her shoulder, she turned around and saw a smug Chris, his eyes glinting in glee.

“Please promise you’ll send me that- it’s pure gold.” Chris said, vindictive glee barely held back.

“Well to keep such a relishing sight to myself would be quite a sin.” She agreed, her emerald green eyes glinting in mutual glee.

Marcel made a mental note to make sure Dahlia and Chris never team up in the future.

God help them all if they do.

* * *

Marcel watched the video for the dozenth time, wondering if he was being a hypocrite since he still felt a pang of satisfaction each time he saw Lila get knocked down a few pegs by dogs.

Then again, he was only human so.....eh.

Swiping through his gallery, he smiled, warmth blossoming in his chest as he saw the numerous pictures he took with Dahlia and the animals there.

He chuckled as he looked at the picture of both of them covered in cats. Swiping to the next one, he paused, taking a moment to simply absorb the sight before him.

There was Dahlia, lovingly bottle feeding a kitten. Any resemblance of her being Dahlia; Wayne Princess, Ice Queen of Gotham, HBIC- was gone. All of it unfurled to show Marcel that she truly does have a heart of gold underneath those walls.

And she was willing to let him past those walls with no strings attached.

He smiled and decided that next time, he should make a cat sweater for Dahlia- or maybe one of those hoodies where you can actually carry a cat in it. Memory serves, she mentioned having a cat named Alfred.

As he lied there mulling over possible designs, outside, Robin watched over him, sharp eyes peeled for the smallest signs of danger within his vicinity.

After escaping the relentless teasing her brothers tortured her with, she finally managed to return to the rooftop that was becoming a familiar perch to her whenever it was her turn to take watch.

She checked back on Marcel and saw him lying on bed, totally relaxed as he scrolled through his phone. She swallowed, noticing how his raven locks splayed out around him like a halo, his tank top showing her his lean strong arms and his tilted head making his jawline more noticeable.

Then she tensed, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling as she sensed another presence with her.

“Anything good on?”

Before the voice even finished speaking, she was already sending a batarang towards the speaker-

Only for said speaker to lift his small paw and disintegrate the batarang before it even grazed him.

“Nice to see you too, tweety bird.”

Robin blinked in surprise as Plagg came into view, whizzing forward to hover inches from her face.

“Plagg? What are you doing here?” Robin asked, her hand straying towards the hilt of her katana as her eyes scanned her surroundings warily.

“She doesn’t know I’m here, don’t worry. It’s just you and me stargazing on a rooftop.” Plagg said, crossing his small legs and placing his arms behind his big head, totally relaxed.

“Why are you here?” Robin asked.

“To chat.” Plagg replied.

“Don’t take me for a fool.” Robin scowled.

“Don’t take me for a liar.” Plagg shot back. He rolled his eyes. Sheesh, tweety needs to lighten up. She’s the opposite of Adrianne when under the mask........good.

But just _how_ good?

“So how long have you been doing this gig?” he asked.

“Since I was 10.” she replied.

“Why a robin of all things?” he asked.

“What is this, 20 questions?” she deflected coolly.

“And here I was, about to be generous enough to tell you more about the miraculous.” Plagg sighed dramatically.

That.....got her attention. But she sure as hell wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth- much less the embodiment of destruction and misfortune.

She glanced towards him, acknowledging him to let him know she’s listening but not lowering her guard in the slightest.

“I can’t tell you too much but I can tell you this- the type of miraculous one gets depends on the personality/character of the wielder. Take Cookie for example; he has a creative mind that thinks quick on his feet and he’s always finding ways to create something to stop a problem rather than find a way to outright destroy the root of it.” He explained.

“A valid point but one easy to deduce from observation.” She said, not impressed.

Plagg shrugged. “Then I might as well go back to my precious camembert.”

He turned around, ready to fly back to Adrianne’s room-

“Wait.”

He grinned like a Cheshire cat before wiping it off and turning around. He had to resist the urge to grin again when he saw the familiar look of curiosity sparked in the Girl Wonder’s eyes, try as she might to conceal it.

“..........what miraculous do you think would suit me?” she asked.

She was good- hell, she was one of the best. She _knew_ that one day she _will_ be as capable as her father, perhaps more so. She was confident in her abilities despite being a mere human. But.....she was admittedly curious to know the answer to that question.

“Hmm.....” he floated around her lazily, his sharp slitted eyes seemingly glowing in the dark. “Why’d you wanna know? Curiosity killed the cat.”

“Satisfaction brought it back.” She replied smoothly.

“Can’t argue with that logic.” Plagg agreed cheerfully.

Placing his paws behind his back, he closed his eyes and raised his head, taking on an air of innocent pensiveness though his tail flicked around playfully like a cat-toy just out of reach.

“Then again, I don’t know you that well so I can’t really say much on the matter.” He mused aloud.

“You’re beating around the bush.” Robin growled.

“And you’re interrupting.” He quipped. “I can tell you this much though.”

He hovered lower so he was eye-to-eye with her, expression serious now as he dropped all pretense of messing with her.

“You wanna know why Adrianne’s so dangerous right now? It’s because of the destruction. I’m a true danger that’ll unleash chaos unless my wielder’s grounded enough to keep my power in line. I require a wielder that has a boundless will but a firm ground for them to stay on.

“That’s why Destruction and Creation always go hand in hand. We balance each other out. Creation is limitless, it’s boundless and never ending. There’s no up or down, forward or backward- it’s just one big blue sky with one single balloon amongst it.

“That’s where Destruction comes in. Destruction is destruction, simple as that. Destruction only goes one way and that’s what helps balance it out with Creation. Destruction keeps it grounded, stops it from drifting too far away until its lost in a void. Destruction makes sure Creation doesn’t wander while Creation makes sure Destruction doesn’t spread.” He explained.

“Why are you telling me this?” Robin asked, trying to process all this.

“You’re the daughter of the World’s Greatest Detective, you figure it out.” Plagg said cryptically.

“You’re throwing me in circles, this is pointless!” Robin snapped, losing her patience.

“Fine, I’ll give it to you straight then.” Plagg said.

Robin tensed, bracing herself for the crucial piece of information-

“I trust you, tweety bird. Marcel does too. If there’s anyone he’d trust with a miraculous....if he could, it should be you.” He said.

..........what?

Robin looked at him stupefied. What point was he trying to make?

Before she could ask him, he whizzed off towards the building and phased through the wall.

Leaving Robin alone on the rooftop, the wind playing with her cape and gently pushing her hair, the shadows she frequented watching silently, as she tried to piece together the vague puzzle left behind by the Black Cat Kwami.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Liam is said to mean 'survive' in Irish. Adenium is deprived from Adenium obesum meaning desert rose. Celosia is the name of a flower. Yes, Dahlia named them all and she remembers every single name of every single animal there.  
> So Plagg has left the breadcrumbs for Robin......reaaally tiny breadcrumbs but still. I hope the conversation between Plagg and Robin wasn't too tedious or confusing to you guys.  
> Anyways! Next chapter! Wayne Gala! LET'S GOOOOOOOOOOOO!  
> Oh and don't forget to let me know what you think in the comments below. Again, if you have any suggestions/ideas, it's not too late for you to express them. Stay tune for next time!


	38. Final(ly) Adjustments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized I never wrote a scene where Marcel did the measurements for the Waynes. I mean, yeah Alfred could've done it beforehand and supplied it to him but I decided it'd be right if Marcel decided to do it himself anyways just to be sure.  
> And let's face it, as mushy and romantic as kissing is, musicals (like dancing and singing) are the true way to seal the deal, don't cha think? 😉

“You called?” Dahlia asked, seating herself down on a chair, crossing one leg over the other as she steepled her fingers.

Despite the fact that she was technically his client, he couldn’t help but feel like she was the one in charge instead.

“Yeah.” Marcel replied. “Sorry to trouble you but I need to take your measurements again.”

Dahlia blinked. “Didn’t Pennyworth-”

“With all due respect, as much as I trust him, I rather do it myself one more time just to be 100% certain.” He explained.

“The most important part of any job is to not leave anything for others handle. Basic business 101.” She agreed.

“It’s okay to ask for help but you gotta do what you gotta do, right?” he mused as he gathered what he would need.

“As the driving point of the business, to leave the most important tasks to someone other than yourself is like giving unstable explosives their own ignition.” She nodded.

Marcel gestured for her to stand up, a measuring tape slung across his neck and his notebook in one hand, a pen tucked behind his ear ready for use. Having done this before numerous times- tediously boring as they were- Dahlia complied.

Marcel took the measurements for her neck and shoulder, doing so diligently three times, bluebell eyes sharp as they took in the results before jotting it down in his notebook. With that done, she moved on to her back width and length before checking her armhole, biceps, forearms and wrists.

As he stood up straight, he paused, his eyes turning nervous and his ears turning red. She rose a brow as his eyes slipped away, refusing to meet hers.

“Is something the matter?” she asked bluntly.

“Nothing just....now I have to uh....measure your.....” his whole face was red now. “Bust.” He whispered.

Dahlia’s other brow went up fractionally.

‘Oh, you pure innocent soul.’ She thought.

Clearing his throat and brushing his bangs away, Marcel stiffly did as such, making sure to focus his eyes on the measuring tape and that alone. Measuring her over bust, bust, under bust- with the occasional fumble which he cursed himself for- before continuing down to her waist and hips.

He swallowed as it struck him that his girlfriend’s body must be drop-dead gorgeous. Not in a superficial way but in an alluring natural way.

Finally, he got the final adjustment and noted the last measurement. Comparing it to what Alfred gave him beforehand, he nodded, glad that both were accurate.

“Do you know how to dance?”

Marcel blinked, taken aback by the sudden question. Turning away from his notes, he saw Dahlia standing there, seemingly stoic as ever but emerald eyes curious mingled with the slightest of nerves.

“Dance?” Marcel echoed.

She nodded.

“I......uh.............” he fumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “No?”

Again, both brows rose a fraction.

“Our time at the arcade says otherwise.” She pointed out.

“That was different. Back then all you had to do was move your feet and press the right arrows at the right time. That’s.....different. Actual dancing requires grace a-and finesse and well.....stuff I’m not really.” He shrugged.

Dahlia’s face steeled. Her eyes taking on a determined glint Marcel was familiar with by now.

“What you are is a fast-learner.” She said, taking out her phone and placing it on the table.

“Flattered?” he replied, wondering what she was scheming.

“So, with the proper guidance, you will be able to learn and adapt.” She went on. “Do you trust me?”

He stood up in reply and took off his jacket, draping it over a chair.

“Can’t hurt to try.” He decided with a small smile, willing to give it a shot. And hey, if all goes well, he could even ask her to dance without making a fool out of themselves.

She nodded and tapped her phone, waltz music resonating from the speakers and reverberating in the sewing room that seemed so spacious, at the same time, smaller than ever.

Guiding themselves to a clear floor space without obstacles, they began their impromptu dancing lesson.

“We’re going to do the basic waltz steps.” She explained. “Place your hand around my waist.” Swallowing, he did just that on her slender waist. “And hold my hand with the other.”

Palm against palm, fingers laced. Dahlia placed one hand on his shoulder and noted how tense it was.

“Relax, I won’t bite.” She said teasingly.

Marcel nodded, his head jerking as he tried to loosen his shoulders and plywood stiff back.

“I apologize in advance if I step on your toes.” He said.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” She rolled her eyes.

Sheesh, he can face the Joker and Two-Face with nerves of steel but he can’t practice dancing with a woman without having a mini internal battle.

“We’ll begin with the box step. This step uses three counts; slow, quick, quick. I will use the timing of 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, are you alright with that?” she asked.

He nodded, this time more naturally as he surprisingly, managed to keep up. It’s just like the time he auditioned for Clara Nightingale.

“Don’t try to pull or push, but rather lead with the body, not the arm. Relax your body and let it go with the flow but ensure you maintain your center of gravity.

“Now, forward with your right.” His right foot moved. “Side with your left.” His left foot glided to the side. “Bring your right foot back together with your left.” Both feet were together now.

“Back with your right.” It slid back. “Side with your left.” It glided left. “Close right to left.” Both were together now. “Repeat. 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3.....”

They went on, one step after the next, their bodies loosening to flow with the music, their feet slowly learning the direction to go without needing to look. Before Marcel knew it, he found himself enjoying this process, finding it similar to when he was sewing once he got the hang of it.

At some point, neither of them had to count out loud anymore.

Next was the natural turn and the reverse turn. If Dahlia hadn’t known better, she could’ve sworn their feet seemed to float off solid ground in favor of gliding. She didn’t relinquish control, nor did she seek to maintain it.

They simply moved as one, two halves of a whole, perfectly balanced.

Ladies underarm turn, rise and fall, promenade chasse, open telemark and wing, step after step followed afterwards, feet gliding, bodies flowing and fingers interlaced.

Gazing at Dahlia now, his breath was taken away as her hair, so dark yet soft and smooth like silken midnight, framed her face. Her skin, lightly tanned, having danced with shadows and bathed in blood for the sake of others; emerald orbs sharp as a blade but as lush as fresh leaves in a forest. Her jawline sharp, her neck slender and the slope connecting to her strong shoulders elegant.

Dahlia gazed back steadily, the light rays dancing through the nearby windows highlighted Marcel’s freckles, as though they were golden flecks splattered across his face. His raven blue hair like the night sky, his bluebell eyes the stars as they shone with light and guidance. His eyes were strong yet soft with compassion, his body lean but strong with grace underlying the clumsiness he claims to be cursed with.

Like an unseen string between them was tugged, their bodies inched closer. Chest to chest, they felt their heartbeats resonating from one to the other, their breaths mingling, warm on their faces. Marcel noted Dahlia’s was slightly minty while the latter noted the other had hints of herbal tea.

Their noses were almost touching and they were close enough that Dahlia could count the freckles splattered across Marcel’s face if she wanted to.

Closing their eyes, they allowed the string to give one final tug, their lips pressing together.

Marcel realized that dancing wasn’t too bad after all. And hey, if being a fumble-foot means moments like these with Dahlia....he can live with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I PROMISE THE NEXT CHAPTER WILL 100% DEFINITELY BE THE WAYNE GALA ITSELF. I SWEAR. PLS WAIT A LITTLE WHILE LONGER 🙇♀️  
> Btw, let me know what you think of this chapter in the comments below. Ciao! >v</


	39. (Not) A Chapter; Does Anyone Know $hit about Gala Outfits?

Before I begin, lemme just-

***SCREAMS INTO LE VOID IN WRITER'S BLOCK***

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Hi readers. First off, I owe you all an apology for neglecting to update this fic in a while. I'm sincerely sorry. It's like there's an invisible road block in front of me that won't budge even if I rammed the Batmobile straight into it (and that's saying something). 

One of the reasons I'm stuck is because I can't figure out a design for the Wayne Gala outfits. I have a draft of it but.....right now, Idk if it's overthinking but I can't help wondering if they're lame or not good enough. Thus, I have decided to ask for help.

Regardless if you're a tailor or a reader, if you're a fashionista or a someone who just vibes, if you have any suggestions, please, don't be afraid to state them in the comments. You don't necessarily have to describe outfits word for word down to the sequin or provide an outfit for every single character. If you want, you can just mention a theme or colour palette or websites and articles to find muse.

I don't want to delay this chapter for too long so I hope everyone will kindly put up with my humble request for advice.

Thank you for your time and attention. Take care and stay safe. Once again, tremendous heaps of gratitude for your support. ;)


	40. IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT

Hi readers. I apologize in advance that once again, this is not a chapter but frankly, I do not want to give you guys false hope so I'm going to come clean.

Recently, a lot of stuff has happened- my online classes are now following an actual school timetable taking up most of my day, homework is increasing and the rest of the time in the majority of my week is taken up by tuition. Furthermore, I have been looking back on certain aspects of my fic as well as reviewing the canon ML as a whole and realized that this fic doesn't have wrinkles- it has frayed edges and maybe even some tears that I should have addressed long ago. Like, as much as I love salt, it makes me wonder......am I doing this character justice? I get that canon screws them up sometimes and makes them OOC.....but is writing this bashing and salt really a cure? Or is it a drug to temporarily relieve?

Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against the salt and bashing fics- hell, I relish it too! It's why I was brought back to this fandom! But it depends- sometimes the salt is sprinkled in the right amounts while sometimes it submerges as a whole-ass ocean, you know? 

The point is- I have to rethink about the way I have portrayed certain characters. Lila bashing can be pried out of my cold dead hands but Adrian bashing and Alya bashing? ......I have to reflect on that for a while.

Currently, I am torn between going on hiatus or rewriting this fic (as I would like to add some changes). I've been trying and _trying_ to find it in myself to be motivated to continue; to find muse and more importantly, find a way to connect with this fic like I did in the past which I took for granted because now it slapped me that it was a fuse. A fuse that's burned out because I didn't pay attention, because I lost my consistent dedication to lengthening it.

I know a lot of you had been looking forward to the Wayne Gala so eagerly- and I'm so sorry for letting your hopes down. You guys don't deserve that after all the support you've given to my fics and the trust in my writing skills.

 _But_.

I want to make it clear that 1) I am _NOT_ deleting this fic, 2) I am _NOT_ giving up on it and 3) _I'M NOT_ giving up. Unlike before, I'm going to sit down and think things through, I'm going to write proper drafts and look over them before posting and I'm going to plan the drive of the story properly so I don't make the same mistakes. 

Please, I hope you guys can forgive me and I hope you understand that I am not doing this on purpose. I'm so sorry that I didn't address this sooner and gave you guys false hope. I hope you will still continue to support and enjoy my other works regardless of the outcome of this one.

Constructive criticism is welcomed in the comments section. Should anyone have any pointers of how I can better express the dynamic between characters and the development/complexity of said characters, I would appreciate those too. Opinions, ideas, suggestions, all are welcome from anyone and everyone. (Except the Lila anon.)

Take care, stay safe and once again, thank you guys for everything. I hope someday, I'll be able to make it up to you.🙇‍♀️


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